No Way Back
by Eirian1
Summary: Teyla learns that Michael is in Wraith hands and hoping to bring herself peace, returns to Atlantis to ask for help. Sheppard and the team join her in the mission, but things go wrong Teyla's struggle is ended in a way no one intends. VS5 Episode 9 NC17
1. Act 1

Author's disclaimer: I do not own _Stargate Atlantis_ and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.

My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in _Stargate Atlantis._ My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Jason Momoa, Rachel Luttrell, Paul McGillion, David Hewlett, Robert Picardo, Connor Trinneer and Christopher Heyerdahl. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no _Atlantis_ as we know it today.

With the exception of personal interpretation and expansions, extracts from existing episodes of the series remain the copyright of the story and teleplay writers: Joe Mallozzi, Paul Mullie, Brad Wright, Robert C Cooper, Martin Gero, Mary Kaiser, Damian Kindler, Peter DeLuise, Jill Blotevogel, Carl Binder, Kerry Glover, Sean Carley, Treena Hancock, Melissa R. Byer, Joe Flanigan, Don Whitehead, Holly Henderson, Ken Cuperus, Scott Nimerfro, Alan McCullough, Alex Levine, and David Schmidt.

Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2009.

Story is rated for mature readers, according to whatever rating system is adopted these days for Fan Fiction. It changes on a site by site basis… It was so much easier way back when…

There may be other virtual seasons of _SGA_ out there in cyberspace. Some may even be unofficially official. However, as a writer, I don't believe that this should discourage others from having their own ideas about things. Mine are presented here.

I can be reached at Feedback is always welcome and emails are usually answered.

Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.

**Stargate Atlantis**

**No Way Back**

When All Else Seems Lost

_"I would like to be your friend. I would."_

_"You expect me to believe that?"_

_"You may not understand this now but making you human ... I believe this could make your life better."_

_"Really? Because from what I was told, you made me human in order to make your lives better. So tell me then: what makes being human better than being a Wraith?"_

_"They are evil. They kill us, feed on us, show no mercy, know nothing of compassion…"_

_"And humans are different?"_

_"Yes."_

_"So what you did to me -- that was done out of compassion?"_

_Teyla and Michael – Michael_

**Previously On _Stargate Atlantis_:**

Sheppard reached out, his eyes locked with those of the doctor, blue to blue as they shared a silent communication of concern for Teyla. He gripped Carson's arm and told him not to worry.

"Colonel, you bring her home, now, y'understand?" Beckett said, his voice barely above a whisper, nodding his head slightly as if to underline the importance of his request.

"Count on it," Sheppard told him seriously as Beckett moved on, coming to stand before the towering, sorrowing figure of the man he'd come to regard as a friend, from their unlikely beginnings several years before.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of," Ronon told him, his voice husky, and Carson knew the stoic Satedan was fighting to keep his emotions in check.

"I know, big man," he said, taking a breath. "I'm sorry."

Ronon stepped forward, and embraced him briefly, before straightening up, and almost immediately walking away.

Beckett turned then to McKay – Rodney McKay – a man with whom he'd spent so many hours in friendship; who he knew was a true friend that would stick with him through everything… death itself if he had to.

After a brief nodding contact, however, McKay couldn't meet his eyes, and inside, Beckett knew that this process was a painful one for the scientist. He moved past his friend to step into the stasis pod as McKay said, trying to sound businesslike, but with a voice that was splintered and fragile, "Right, well, you won't feel a thing – aside from a cool burst when the pod first activates."

Beckett turned so that he was facing out; out into Atlantis, into the city that would now be his salvation.

"Now, your life signs will be monitored on this machine here, twenty-four-seven, so…" McKay went on, and when Beckett glanced his way, he saw the pain that was eating the man up before his eyes.

"Thank you, Rodney," he said, trying to sound reassuring, but there was no reassurance for this, and he knew that as well as everyone there. He looked around at them all and said, "I want you all to know that seeing you again these last few days – it was all worth it, no matter what happens."

"You know, I was toying with the idea of programming dreams into these things. Interested? I could have you fishing in the Highlands…" McKay said, emotion streaming from him even as he tried to be light-hearted. He leaned a little closer, the parody of a smile on his face as he continued, "…with a couple of tall, blonde massage therapists?"

"No, Rodney," Beckett said, nervousness beginning to eat at the edges of his resolve. "I'll be fine."

McKay forced a larger smile onto his face and said, "That's right. You will be, you know? 'Cause this is not 'goodbye,' this is… this is… er… this is 'see you later,' that's what we agreed."

"Did we?" he asked, fearfully.

"'S'how I remember it," McKay said.

"All right, then," Beckett said, trying to make the brave smile he fixed onto his face look convincing, as he glanced around at his companions one last time and took a deep breath. "See y'all later."

**

McKay watched as his dearest friend straightened himself up and faced straight ahead. It was now or never, but still he looked at the others, as if searching for a reason not to have to activate the stasis field. Not one of them could give him that reason. He saw it in their eyes. Reaching down, he began to type the code into the activation device, ignoring, at first, the cool blue light that shone on the side of his face. He could not bear to have to see Carson like that, not at first… not until, eventually, like all the others, he sadly raised his face to gaze on him in silent farewell.

**

The Second shrugged then, and began to move the syringe toward his arm. Michael took another breath, bracing himself.

"A pity," the Hive Second said, pausing again. "Not at all worthy of the Wraith I remember you to have been."

"You remember _nothing,_" Michael spat, hatred and contempt colouring his voice, "and know even less."

_He turned as he sensed the additional presence in the Queen's private chambers, completing fastening his belt as he did. The appearance of the Hive Second did not alarm him. It had been he that the scientist had summoned after all._

_Even when the Second's eyes narrowed and Michael felt the press of that one's mind in his, he remained calm, and pocketed the small bottle of deep purple fluid, making no attempt to hide it from the Second's eyes._

_"No," he answered the unspoken communication. "I was the one that summoned you. There will be no new queen from this union, but __**she **__will have needs. You will see to them."_

_Neither did he possess qualms at giving orders to one technically his superior in the Hive hierarchy. He glanced behind him to the prone form of the Queen, still breathless and semi-conscious on the soft pillows of her sunken bed to clarify who it was to which he referred._

_"The Hive Commander—" the Second began, his physical voice carrying no reprimand._

_"The Hive Commander is an ineffectual fool. I know this, as do you," the Queen's Scientist Consort replied. "Do not trouble me with threats of his reprisals. By the time he comes to know that another has taken his bitch from him, I will be long gone from here. I doubt I shall ever return."_

The memory surfaced from nowhere, and Michael knew that the Hive Second had brought it forth in him.

**

The closer Michael came to the site, the more he felt the tentative searching put out by the developing consciousness. It was merely the whisper of a touch against his mind, a request for direction, designation, - for contact.

Overnight there had been a massive increase in the mass, and in the structure of the Hive organism, fuelled by the thermal vent over which the foundations of the cradle had been built. The growth was rapid.

Briefly he laid his hand onto the tensile hardness of the support beam that was already wrapped in the spreading bio-polymer. At once, sensing the touch, several tendrils reared up, snake-like, striking toward him.

_-cease- -cease- -cease-_

As if suddenly paralysed the tendrils hung, mid-strike, allowing him ingress toward the cradle he knew lay at the centre of the tangled mass…

…He took a breath and let it out as a sigh as he looked at the pale likeness of the girl, Lisstha's, face barely recognisable under the infection of the Hive organism. A momentary and unexpected flurry of sadness touched him and he asked, "She is gone?"

//Her life functions are minimal.//

With another sigh, he nodded. He did not understand his sorrow. He had not felt anything for this girl; had not even known her – not like before…

An almost burning anger; resentment bordering on hatred flared in his gut. Michael gasped, and blinked, shaking his head and fighting to bring his breathing under control. It was a simple question he felt from the Hive Organism before him…

_//She has hurt you//_

…and yet it encompassed so much the Queen had done.

"It was a long time ago," he said at last, "and my retribution is at hand."

//That is what I am for.//

"You will be my flagship," he said. "The time of the Wraith; the reign of the Queen, the arrogance of the Lanteans – all of it… will end."

**

Todd could almost taste the anticipation as the Cascade Beam raced across the distance between his cruiser and that of the Abomination. He mentally counted the seconds until with an almost snarling hiss he watched the shields of the other cruiser flare brightly. Any moment they would collapse inward. The energy of the beam would feed back through the nodes that generated the shields and would disable them and the comm. array and would send a cascading overload throughout all the systems of the ship, destroying it from the inside out and there would be nothing to be done to prevent it.

Seconds passed and a frown, born of confusion, found its way to his face as his sensors failed, the chatter of Dart telemetry falling silent on the bridge. He grasped the controls, letting his mind fall into oneness with the cruiser's interface and ran a diagnostic program to try and find the cause of the failure. As the answer came to him the blood in his veins chilled and slowed.

"That's not possible," he said aloud, and abandoned his position to race to the forward viewing port. Even before he saw the leading edge of the approaching wave, he felt the cold touch of a thought inside his head that did not come from any one of his brothers.

_-Did you think I would forget?-_

**

The Queen's annoyance melted to curiosity, and then anticipation as the Wraith guards approached the middle of her chamber, dragging a semiconscious figure between them. Quickly, but sure to appear unhurried, she rose from her throne, and began to descend the steps.

Frowning she turned her head to watch the approaching scientist, tilted her head on seeing the rapidly healing scratches and bruises that marred his face. Sudden realisation of the truth filled her with a thrill of excited hope.

"I made a promise to you, My Queen," the scientist said softly, inclining his head in a small bow. He gestured toward the prisoner.

The semiconscious figure, suddenly unsupported, staggered a few steps before the strength in its legs gave way and it sank to its knees, in spite of an obvious effort to remain upright. It began to slump forward, but caught itself, leaning on a torn and bloodied arm.

She tightened her mental grasp, and relished the sounds of his physical discomfort, watching the tendons straining on the side of its neck as he fought her; relished the sound of the cry that came from its throat, past clenched teeth as it finally began to succumb and raised its head toward her….

…and she shivered as, at last, the eyes, slowly rising from the floor of the chamber, met hers, and she saw the cold, hard fury of hatred burning in the Wraithlike golden orbs that captured hers as she finally came face to face with the Abomination.

**

The man that stepped through the Gate was tall, and dark, and not at all handsome. His face was scarred on the one side, and the story was that one of his former patients had covered him with gasoline and set him on fire. His blue eyes were completely devoid of warmth as he swept his gaze around the Gate Room, and the dark suit that he wore only accentuated the impression of a brooding, crow-like presence.

"Richard Woolsey," he greeted the man, and though he sounded glad, and held out his hand for the requisite handshake, the coldness in his eyes did not change, and Woolsey remember the brief conversation with the IOA.

_"An unfortunate misunderstanding," she interrupted smoothly, "A senate committee delivered their findings very recently on the subject of the alleged incident and he was cleared of all wrong-doing."_

"Professor Varnerin," Woolsey said, shaking the man by the hand and gesturing toward the interior of the city. "Welcome to Atlantis."

**

Sheppard had spent the better part of the day trying to persuade Teyla that she should stay; that their differences could be worked out, and that they needed her. Perhaps that last part was the truth, but Teyla doubted the rest.

For just a moment, she turned away from the Gate to look around the city one last time. It had been her home for a long time, and to be away from it, and from the friendships—

She swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and Sheppard stepped forward, joking a little, she knew, to try and lighten the atmosphere, he said, "Hey, we have your address, we can always write."

She gave a faint smile, but said sadly, "I do not think so. If we meet again, it will be a long time… to allow the hurt to heal. I fear we need that – both of us."

"Yeah," he said, and nodded, looking at the ceiling.

"Goodbye, John." she said softly, and walked to where Ronon was waiting for her by the Gate, to escort her back to her people.

**

The serum flooded into him like icy fire. Michael could track its progress as it burst as an ache inside his head and down to squeeze his heart as if some massive bellows worked to crush him. After only a laboured breath, the pain of it began.

He clenched his teeth against the bubbling and churning that began deep inside him, but all too soon the intensity of the agonising change that was sweeping over him, and through him, overcame his resistance. He cried out, "I will kill you for this… all of you!"

But even the defiant cries became wordless as the agony took hold, as his transformation accelerated, and even above his own screams he could hear the crackling and popping of his bones, sinews and flesh.

**

Todd held his breath as the Renegade's features sharpened, becoming more Wraithlike with each moment that passed; as the familiar features of his ages-old rival began to reform before his eyes.

**

Teyla paused for just a moment before she pushed the torch into the dry kindling at the centre of the pyre and stepped back. Another deep sigh escaped her as the flames and heat blurred her vision.

The heat melted the canvass that the people of Atlantis had used to wrap Kanaan's body before they had delivered it from M7S-445, and in the rising temperature of the flames, his head fell slowly to the side, almost as though he had turned it.

As she watched, Kanaan's hybrid features distorted and sharpened; changed, becoming more pronounced – the illusion melting away to reveal Michael amid the devastating flames.

…_Michael…!_

She took another step forwards, but was again restrained by Halling and Kara.

"But—" she began, a sickening fear and worry replacing the sorrow.

"Let him go, Teyla," Halling said, barely above a whisper. She knew he did not understand.

_"Teyla…!"_

The vision of Michael persisted, however, and he reached for her through the flames and the haze of heat.

_"Help me, Teyla, plea—"_

_-forgive me, Teyla- -forgive me- -forgi…-_

As though a cloud had lifted from the sun on a dark day, as though the smoke was suddenly borne away on a breeze, the vision came to an abrupt end…

The vision came to an abrupt end and Michael was gone.

Though her son was still missing she knew that she would find him. It should have been a comfort… but did not reach to warm the sudden, dreadful cold within her heart… or to banish the thought that it had all come at some terrible price.

**

"You clearly wish to cling to some…pointless principle and starve yourself – and for what?"

The Renegade did not answer, save to fix him with a most baleful stare that would have withered lesser Wraith. The answer suddenly came to Todd as if someone had clearly spoken it to him.

"Ah – of course, your precious… Teyla." He drew out her name as a growl, as if rolling it around on his tongue; tasting it. He knew he was right when The Renegade's stare turned to scarlet fury in his eyes and he began to struggle in the grasp of the drones. Fixing his face into an expression of regret, Todd said, "You need not concern yourself with her." Before he turned away, he saw The Renegade's muscles tense; the look of desolation and panic that came over him. Beginning to walk toward the door of the laboratory, Todd added, "Not any more."

"What do you mean?" The Renegade cried out after him as Todd moved further away. "What have you done to her!"

**

"I didn't think you were ever going to wake," Varnerin said sourly as Woolsey opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground in what seemed to him to be a cell, though the bars looked more like a spider's web than real bars. "Thought maybe he'd done more damage than I imagined; broke your neck or something."

His head ached and he felt sick to his stomach. "What happened?" he answered the professor.

"Wraith."

"What do you mean, _Wraith?_"

"I mean, more Wraith arrived. They didn't wait to find out what was going on, they just stunned us," Varnerin said.

"Another Wraith faction, do you think?" Woolsey asked.

"How the devil should _I_ know?" Varnerin snapped. "More importantly: how the hell do we get out of here?"

"You don't."

_=don't= =don't= =don't=_

**

Burning… The whole of his flesh was dissolving in the fire of a bitter maelstrom that had taken root inside of him. His dreams were dark and too confused to even grasp the edges of any sense to wrap around them.

He moaned and turned his head first one way and then the other against the pillow as though seeking to escape the weight of disorder that beset him. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and his cheeks, a testament to the cold sweat that had him in its grasp. His breathing, rapid and shallow, reached a sudden crescendo in the cry that tore from his lips as he shot upright, waking from a terror he could neither name, nor remember.

Quickly, he threw back the soaked covers, and turned to put his head into his hands, as the familiar darkness of his quarters, and the bubbling hum of the city of Atlantis wrapped her comfort around him… and when he could stand, he padded to the bathroom to remove the evidence of his night terrors.

**

Still, as he sat, his mind churned over all the facts. He could tell that something was bothering Jennifer – terribly so – and he couldn't help but think that it had something to do with the altercation he had witnessed that afternoon. The argument, the atmosphere, it was all too chillingly familiar.

He tried to dismiss it, put it down to how stressed and tired they all were, and he could see very clearly that Jennifer was more than a little tired, but something kept the warning bells ringing in his head.

"Why don't you take a break," he said quietly. "You've been at it for hours."

"There's a lot to do, Rodney," Jennifer answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and yawning into the back of her other hand. "We have to take these results back to the Hive, one of these people might hold the key to… well, to—"

"To getting you away from Todd so that he can't play games with you any more?" Rodney had said the words almost before he realised he had spoken. "I'm not blind and I'm certainly not stupid. Ever since we've been on Todd's Hive there's been something wrong – something you're not telling Sheppard and me, and now with this thing in the alley back there, I think I understand what. Jen, if Todd's making improper advances o—"

"Don't be so absurd!" Jennifer spat, a little breathless, and as she freed her arm from his grasp, she raised her hand to press it against the high collar of the lab coat she wore. "If you must know, he was angry that I hadn't done as I was told and stayed with the drones. He was trying to intimidate me; whispering threats."

He saw her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself. As she did, her lab coat shifted and he caught sight of the bruise on her neck. It didn't seem to be any better. In fact, it seemed to be more livid than ever.

**

Keller could barely keep her hand steady enough to avoid opening a huge gash in the blood vessel raised by the tourniquet as she took her blood sample. Her mouth was alternately desert dry, and sickeningly wet with bile as the thought, the terrifying possibility entered her mind again and again.

Bracing herself against the bench, as her legs barely held her upright, she moved to place the blood sample she had taken into the scanner that would analyse the biochemical contents, providing her with a full blood panel. She would feel better when she had answers – when she knew.

Feeling suddenly faint, and trembling with the effort to hold on to consciousness she hooked the nearby stool with her foot and drew it closer so that she could sit – head in hands, trying to make sense of everything, before she grabbed a surgical directive sheet and in handwriting she was sure would be unrecognisable, wrote up the order, before she finished getting herself ready for the procedure she had just sanctioned.

"God, Jennifer!" Doctor Meronine's exclamation made her jump. "Jennifer, what's wrong?"

"Leave it," she craved desperately and handed her the written order. "I need this procedure. I need you to do it… do it now."

"Jen?" Meronine frowned, her voice full of concern as she cast her eyes over the written sheet. "Jen, are you sure? I didn't even know you were—is this even necessary? We should… we should get you under the scanner first, it might not even be necessary, something this drastic, I mean a D an—"

"No," Keller almost shook the other doctor. "It's the only way, it's been too long already. Please, Angela, don't make me find some way to do this myself."

**

Halling kept a hand on Ronon's shoulder, turning him and beginning to walk with him away from the busy community centre and further into the gathering darkness at the outer edge of the village. Once they were clear of prying eyes and ears, Halling said, "You are looking for Teyla?"

"She's not here, is she?" Ronon asked. It was obvious to him anyway.

"No, she is not," Halling said and shook his head. "The Wraith came. Teyla barely had time to warn us before they were upon us."

"And Teyla left because of it?" Ronon asked.

Halling nodded. "We tried to persuade her otherwise," he explained, "but she blamed herself; said that in her dreams… that the warning was clear…"

**

"Professor Varnerin informed me that you have been out looking for Teyla – that she's not with her people," Woolsey said.

"I've been looking for Teyla, yeah," he said, giving Woolsey a challenging look, all but daring him to ask why.

"And did you find her?" Woolsey asked instead.

"She's nowhere, Woolsey," he said, "Not even news of her. No word."

"Well… I suppose we'll have to assume that no news is good news," the base commander said with what Ronon supposed was supposed to be a reassuring smile. In this instance, however, he rather doubted that the Earth Human's idiom would hold. He had a very bad feeling lodged deep inside his heart.

**

"So, Scientist," The Abomination spat, turning his narrowed golden eyes Todd's way, "you have come to torment me still further. Inject me with your retrovirus to see how much closer to Wraith you can drag my DNA."

**

He braced himself for another stab of physical agony from whatever instrument of torture this scientist – Queen's pawn – would decide to try and use to loosen his tongue. After several minutes, nothing came but the soft tones of the other's voice.

"Tell me something… Michael…"

He could not have prepared himself for the wash of emotional pain that came with hearing that name on this one's lips. He felt the shock of it bubbling inside of him, tight against his chest as though trying to escape...

"…all those centuries ago… when you took the Humans of this galaxy to experiment on… Did you use your own DNA then as well? When you began the line of manipulations that resulted in your little… natural hybrid playing…" The Scientist purred, "…your… Teyla…"

Anger joined the pain, intensified triple fold by the mention of her name, and still chuckling, and though restrained, he sought to lash out. He would kill this poor excuse for Wraith.

The Scientist paused by the door, though he did not look back. He merely spoke softly one more time, damning Michael with his words.

"…idle curiosity… for the lost."

***

_"What I am is not a disease you can cure."_

_Michael - Misbegotten_

**Act 1**

Carson Beckett closed his eyes, took in a shuddering breath and opening them once more, fought to keep his anguish in check among his companions. He knew that each of them was grieving. He only had to look around at their sallow faces and blotchy complexions to know that many of them had shed more than a single tear in the last twenty-four hours.

His eyes met the red rimmed orbs of Colonel Sheppard, standing tattered and bruised, but immaculately dressed in full military dress uniform beside the neatly trimmed figure of the base commander whose black suit and tie stood stark against the crisp white of his shirt.

The civil and the military, side by side now, finding an uneasy peace in this death, but still warring within the heart of the physician led astray, ethically, professionally – God alone knew in his right to call himself a compassionate Human being – for the sake of trying to take the short route to solving an imbalance their presence had caused in this galaxy.

They didn't need to know that he blamed himself for this; for the price that Teyla had paid for all of them.

He tore his eyes away from Sheppard's as the man began to move toward the podium that had been erected in front of the Stargate, their movement dislodging the tears that had gathered in his eyes, and even his best friend's hand closing on his shoulder did nothing to bring comfort to his aching heart.

"Rodney," he whispered, turning his head to look at the man, as McKay squeezed his shoulder again.

McKay's eyes were full of understanding, and of worried sorrow, and Carson closed his eyes again, to try and shut out the absolution he thought he saw there. He didn't want absolution; didn't deserve it. Instead he gathered to himself the cracked and painful words that began slowly, softly, to pour forth from John Sheppard's lips.

"Two days," Sheppard said. "Forty-eight hours… two thousand, eight hundred, eighty minutes," his voice cracked then, and Carson opened his eyes again, to look across the woven pallet on which Teyla's possessions, including the little hand carved crib, had been reverently placed, waiting for the time when – in lieu of her body – they would be carried through the Gate to the settlement of her people, to lie in state, before the pyre would take them all; reduce them to ash and dust that was all that remained of the woman herself, floating endlessly in the vast cold of space. He found Sheppard's eyes as wet with tears as were his own, and somehow managed a nod of support to the man he knew had loved her. They all had, but Sheppard…

Sheppard cleared his throat and continued, "One hundred, seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds… since we lost Teyla… and I've lived… every single one of them in a darkness… deeper for knowing the absence of her gentle presence in this galaxy…"

**

Ten days earlier…

"You sure we should have left her on her own like that," Ronon asked as he, McKay and Sheppard trudged up the slight incline toward the Gate.

"She's not on her own," Sheppard reasoned, "Warsh and his team have got her back. Keller knows how to look after herself. She'll be fine."

"Yeah, but—" Ronon started, flicking a glance at McKay whose mouth was set in a think line, and lines of worry creased his brow like the furrows in the field they had just passed.

"But what, Ronon?" Sheppard asked, sounding a little more irritated than the Satedan expected. He blinked in surprise and hurt, and Sheppard turned to face him, running his fingers through his hair as if at a loss for what to do. "Granted, she looks a bit… under the weather, but I _tried_ to talk to her and she just blows me off. Says she's tired from working all the hours Godsend, and which of us isn't right now."

"But you could—" Ronon countered, once again interrupted by Sheppard.

"She won't. Talk to me, big guy," he said and sighed, "What else do you want me to do?"

"She won't talk to anyone," McKay answered, before Ronon could open his mouth. "This is the first time she's come out of that lab in three weeks. I know we brought back a lot of data from Todd's Hive, and from Michael's lab, but…"

"She'll talk to us when she's ready," Sheppard said, in a tone that Ronon knew meant that he was more worried than he was trying to let on. "Dial the Gate, McKay."

McKay was standing by the DHD, and Ronon looked past him as he glanced back the way they'd come, toward the settlement where they'd left the others, where Jennifer was trying to help those that had greater needs than those with which their own herbalists could meet though thankfully none of these, according to Jennifer, seemed to be stricken with the onset of the Hoffan syndrome.

His contemplations were shattered by McKay's warning.

"Sheppard," he said, pulling back his hand from the DHD as the symbols began to light up to show that someone was dialling in.

"Oh Crap," Sheppard hissed and unslung his P90 from where it rested loosely, to check the magazine and flick off the safety. "Get to cover," he told both Ronon and McKay. "If it's trouble, we'll head back to the village. Go!"

Ronon looked around them, there was scant little cover, and what there was couldn't hope to conceal _him._ The best cover he could give himself was distance. He set off at a run, grabbing McKay by the shoulder of his jacket and sending the two of them skittering back down the rise they'd just climbed, as if running from the almost harsh liquid sigh of the wormhole stabilising into existence.

It was closely followed by the mosquito whine he had anticipated, and feared.

**

"_Warsh, we've got company_!" Colonel Sheppard's voice sounded urgently in his ear, "_Get everyone under cover. Get Doctor Keller out of there_!"

"Negative, Sir," Warsh called back, and glanced over at where Keller was kneeling beside one of the low beds, on which a woman was straining to bring her child to birth. "Doc can't leave right now."

The woman chose just that moment to let out a terrible cry of anguish and pain, and Warsh was sure it would leave the colonel in no doubt as to why the doctor had to stay where she was.

"Easy," Keller crooned to the woman, "I know, I know… but you're doing fine."

In spite of her words, the look that the doctor shot the captain in the next moment did not fill him with confidence.

"_We're coming to _you_. Stay put_," Sheppard ordered instead.

"Yes, Sir. Warsh out," he answered, and went to crouch at the doctor's side. "What do you need, Doctor Keller?"

He saw the Doctor's hand tremble, as she lifted it to brush away the hair that had fallen across her eyes. "Unless you can get me an OR, Captain, I don't think there's anything you can do," she said.

"Sorry, Doc," he said, "Even if we could get a detail to carry this lady to the Gate it'd do us no good. We've got Wraith inbound, and Colonel Sheppard just told us to hang tight."

Even as he spoke, the first of the explosions from the incoming Darts rocked the ground beneath them.

"What's happening?" the labouring woman's voice was shrill with fear and pain, and she reached out to grab the material of his jacket with fingers that were already slick with her own blood.

**

Ronon stumbled, the ground under his feet uneven and went down hard enough to make Sheppard wince in sympathy. Neither man gave pause, however. Ronon rolled onto his back and with his blaster fired time and again at the Dart overhead that was streaming toward the village.

Sheppard, too, raised his P90 and fired on the agile craft, before reaching down to grab Ronon by the shoulder of his shirt, and haul him to his feet before taking off again, running and firing, making a vain attempt to save the village.

He cursed himself as he ran. He should have known, the minute Keller's screen had revealed no traces of the Hoffan protein in the blood of these people, that this was a prime target for Wraith culling and made adequate provision for their protection. Now he was faced with the prospect, not only protecting these people until they could be evacuated, but also of trying to avoid getting his own ass culled – or those of his people.

He tapped his mic. "Warsh, what's your status?" he asked.

"_Not good, Sir_," Warsh's voice was strained, and punctuated with the sound of Wraith Dart weapons, and the shrill whoosh of their culling beams. "_The Wraith are firing on the housing to drive the people out. They won't stay put, Sir. They're terrified, and who can blame them_."

"Do what you can, Captain," Sheppard ordered, "Try and marshal the villagers toward the building at the centre of the village. It has a vault underneath. We're almost there, just… just keep them from getting culled!"

He growled in frustration at the whole situation, at the sudden escalation in culling – as if they were preparing for something – as if there was something coming, something big in the Wraith social calendar or—

His darkly cynical thoughts were interrupted by the solid mass that suddenly collided with him and took his feet from under him, driving him to the side of the roadway, where they both landed with a rush of air expelled from already aching lungs. Reflex had him release his hold on his weapon and start to swing a balled fist in the direction of his attacker.

"Whoa! Sheppard," Ronon's voice registered in time for his fist to collide with the Satedan's defensively raised palm. "What was that about not getting culled?"

As Ronon spoke, his ears registered the almost musical whine of the culling beam, and he turned his head to watch its distorting sweep, like a heat haze, pass down the road on which he had, but a moment before, been standing.

"Come on," he said, trying to cover his horrified embarrassment. "We gotta get to the village."

**

Leaving the marine she'd appropriated as an assistant, Keller pulled off the bloodstained gloves and hurried to what was left of the door to the dwelling. It stood at an angle, half scorched by the after-effects of the blast that had taken it off its hinges and splintered the frame in which it had once hung. She wrenched it aside, needing to find Warsh; praying that it would be clear enough for them to get her to the Gate. She was running out of time.

The chaos took what was left of her breath away. It grabbed the shreds of her hope and trampled them into the dampened mud that was fast becoming a soupy mess in the central courtyard as villagers ran to and fro in panic, corralled and marshalled by the combined effects of the Wraith culling beams, and the Atlantis military personnel.

Where the culling beams did not sweep, balls of death and destruction flew from the Darts' weapons into building and person alike; violent persuasion to the village folk to make of themselves targets for the Wraith pilots to sweep up, and carry away to their bleak fate.

"Doctor Keller!" Jennifer turned as she heard her name called from amid the chaos, "Go back inside. You're safer inside!"

"Captain Warsh," she called back, fighting to make herself heard over the combined sounds of screams, the whine of Darts and the crackle of burning timbers. Ignoring his advice she started to jog toward him, dodging her way through the scurrying locals. "I need to get that woman back to Atlantis. I have to move her _now_!"

"Not a chance, Doctor," Warsh answered, taking a firm hold of her hand, and leaning toward her as he spoke. "The Wraith started beaming in ground troops to take out the resistance – in other words: us. Chances are they sent through drones to guard the Gate as well."

"Captain, if I don't, she'll die," Keller appealed, and she knew she didn't need to voice her concerns for the baby.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Warsh said, raising his voice above the whine of an incoming Dart. "There's nothing I can d—"

"Warsh!"

He broke off, grabbing her by both arms and turning her, shielded her with his body as Sheppard's voice screamed out across the noise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the shimmer of a culling beam distorting the air, barely millimetres away from where she now was.

However, far from leaving behind empty space where the beam had been, as the wavering faded the space beside her was occupied by a Wraith commander, and two Wraith drones.

The Wraith in front, the commander, reached for Keller, his clawed feeding hand open and stretching as he made the grab for her…

_Todd slipped one of his hands under the small of her back, drawing her toward him, his possession of her deeper, filling her with a deeper need, in spite of herself, until her cries became growls and he rose over her again. He reached out, his feeding hand still wet with her juices, and dripping enzyme reaching out until he pressed against her chest… She gasped as the barbs pricked her skin, her belly swirling with excited fear that pushed her arousal to new heights… she moaned, almost wishing he would feed…_

…Suddenly she fought the hold Warsh had on her, pushing at him…

"No!" she spat, scratching at the Captain's hands on her arms, overbalancing him, her irrational mind convinced he was holding her in place for the Wraith. He went down on one knee, still not letting go and dragged her with him, and she screamed and fought like a hell cat.

Just as well he did, for in the next moment the heat of P90 fire scorched the air just over Keller's head.

Abandoning her fight with the captain, she cowered beneath her upraised arms, shielding herself from the gunfire, from the rounds of hot metal that flew dangerously close, punctuated by the shrill sizzle of hot energy from Ronon's blaster, before she was pulled down completely and the weight of a body settled over her.

**

Sheppard didn't stop firing until the Wraith were ribbons of dark, oozing blood that staggered to fall lifeless beyond the reach of Keller's feet, and with the death of the commander, it seemed that the tide of the battle began to turn. Darts began retreating, and their culling sweeps slowed and then ceased all together.

As the noise subsided, Warsh got up from where he was shielding Keller, and Sheppard watched the monumental effort with which she climbed to her feet and pulled herself together as much as the tatters of her nerves would allow.

"You all right?" he asked, biting back the retort that was lodged in his brain at her aberrant behaviour.

"I have a patient, John," she answered, her voice still shaky. "I _have_ to get her into surgery. It's already way past time."

"All right, I'll assign you a carrying detail; we'll strike for the Gate. Once the Wraith are gone we'll be able to dial in to Atlantis," he said with exaggerated patience.

"Jennifer—" McKay started.

"Rodney," she cut him off. "I don't have time for this!"

She started to walk off but he caught her wrist, his fingers clasped hard against the tenacious three week old bruising that Sheppard knew came from her stay aboard the Hive, but not how it had been caused. She snatched her wrist from McKay's grasp.

"But, you—" McKay tried again.

"Get off me!" she spat. "Unless you can give me the means to teleport my patient to an OR then just… get out of my face!"

She stormed back inside the building and McKay moved as though to follow her, but Sheppard stepped in his path, a hand spread gently, but firmly over the man's chest to halt his progress.

"Let her go, Rodney," he said softly, but he resolved to speak to Keller later whether she wanted to or not.

**

Rissek walked the length of the hall slowly, his mind in deep contemplation of the orders with which he had been left. It never occurred to him for a moment to disobey. Everything was in its place, the plan followed to the letter, and once the cruisers returned with the last of the supplies they needed, they would be ready. They had time. They had not yet received the transmission.

He stopped beside a door, pressing his hand to the palm reader, and typing in the necessary code. The lock retracted audibly, sounding like a gunshot echoing along the corridor he had just walked.

He entered the room slowly, taking in the muted lighting, the steady warmth and carefully controlled flow of air, and walked to the small chamber at the other end of the room. His eyes ran over the monitors, noting their readings before looking into the chamber itself.

The child looked back at him, his gold-flecked blue eyes seeming to meet Rissek's own in silent communication… holding an intelligence… emotion and strength all at the same time. The child's features were soft, his pale, coffee-cream skin alive with obvious health, though the slight scar to the child's hip was visible as the light fell on the chamber from above.

"Soon, little one," he said softly and placed a hand over the glass of the chamber. "He will be home soon."

**

Sheppard stood to one side as Warsh and the other marines of the security detail ushered the refugees away from the Gate Room into secure quarters until they could find them a more permanent arrangement. They hadn't been able to leave the villagers behind because he knew, as well as every man, woman and child in that place that the Wraith would return, and it wouldn't have been long before they did, and with greater forces to counter the resistance they'd met. It was what they did and Sheppard was not a happy man. In fact, quite frankly, Sheppard was pissed.

The Gate Room was in chaos. Wandering natives and milling marines notwithstanding, Sheppard crossed the floor to where Keller was giving urgent directions to the medical team that had come to take the woman to the infirmary, and get her prepped for the surgery she needed. His steps were sharp, his boots percussive against the polished floor.

"…and we're going to need to cross-match as many units of blood as we can," Keller said, as they began to wheel the woman away. The doctor turned to go after them but Sheppard hooked her arm, tugging her back around to face him.

"John," she started.

"What the fuck was that!" he demanded not quite angrily, though his voice was somewhat raised.

"This isn't the time for this. I—"

"This is _exactly_ the time," he snapped. "You completely lost it out there. Attacked a man under my command and—"

"I didn't attack _anyone_, Sheppard," she hissed, obviously trying not to draw any more attention to them.

"—and," Sheppard didn't care about that, and raised his voice a little more. "You had a go at Rodney when he expressed his concern at—"

"As I remember it, you'd damn near shot me to death," Keller finally snapped. "So pardon me if I might have been a little worse for wear from shock!"

Sheppard shook his head.

"What's going on, Jennifer?" he asked more softly, "Ever since we went aboard Todd's Hive you've been… on edge… nervous – if I didn't know better I'd say you were on something – and it's only been getting worse since we got back."

"Listen, Sheppard," she hissed, snatching at her arm, with some difficulty he was sure, because he was holding her more tightly than he would ordinarily have done, to make his point. Eventually after the third try she finally freed herself. "If you want to write me up for being rude to McKay, be my guest. Go right ahead. But right now I have a patient waiting for me in surgery. While I stand around talking to you, she's bleeding to death, so _if_ you'll excuse me…"

She stormed away from him then, along the corridor leading to the infirmary and as Sheppard turned from watching her, his eyes caught sight of the approaching base commander.

"Colonel Sheppard, a word?" Woolsey said to him, but Sheppard held up his hand.

"Look, I know what you're gonna say, and you're right. We can't keep finding new homes for every native inhabitant of this galaxy, but we couldn't leave them, Woolsey. The Wraith are going back there. They're going back in greater number because _we_ offered them resistance. It's about taking responsibility? I couldn't in all conscience leave them there just to get culled on the next pass."

Woolsey sighed heavily. "It can't go on, Colonel, this makes the third set of refugees so far this week." he said. "And Doctor Keller...? Is everything all right?"

"Nothing a little R and R wouldn't deal with," Sheppard said, and he knew as he said the words that he was lying, but he said them anyway. Whatever was going on with Jennifer, he'd handle it himself.

**

Isla's whole body trembled, alive with the fire of the caress of his feeding hand along the side of her body. The touch encouraged her to wrap her leg over the top of his hip and slowly he guided the hard length of him deep inside her.

She cried out, her muscles tightening around his ridged member as she shattered, and opened to him, all defences lost, and she sobbed with the pleasure of the climax that he gathered and wrapped around their conjoined minds, stroking their bodies with the edgy sting of it, as surely as the perilous caress of his feeding hand nipped at the sensitivity at the point of their joining, rendering the ecstasy almost too much to bear.

_{surrender} {surrender} {surrender}_

She sobbed again with the sweetness of his mind's touch in hers as he surged in to possess her more fully, pressing her beneath him now, pressed against her, nipping sharply at the back of her shoulder; the back of her neck, almost undulating over her like a wave, filling her completely with his presence, both in body, and in a manner less tangible.

**

Buoyant in the whirl of sensation in her hybrid mind, the Hive Second could at last lower defences so long held that the pain of it threatened to stifle him with its insanity. The desire, the arousal, and the kindred affection he felt for this small creature in his arms soothed him long enough only to bank the fires of his sensuality until they could burst in him again, an inferno of possessive sexual hunger.

"Lord," she gasped, "_please…_"

Her adoring pleas were a balm that freshened every sensation inside of him. The kiss of each muscle along every ridge and sensitive dip of his masculinity, the soft skin of her back against his sculpted belly, the sweet copper taste of her blood against his tongue where his teeth had punctured the delicate skin. He felt himself swelling against her, his engorged sacs brushing maddeningly against the velvet of her thighs, dampened by their mingled essences, the tumble of her fluids over him quickened by the seeping release of his enzyme against her centre as he denied the need to feed.

At last, sensation and release won over control and swept the both of them, tightly woven in mind and body as she was with him, into the bright heat of blissful oblivion. The white noiselessness of his primal existence washed over him, as he pulsed time and again into her body and she milked him with crush after crushing kiss of trembling muscles.

"Isla," he all but sang her name softly. "Sermhuni…"

"Do not call me that," she whispered, breathlessly. Her voice thick with tears he felt gathering in her.

"Always denial, my little Isla," he said gently, turning her as he moved from inside her, so that he could see her face, and she his.

"But I haven't—"

"You have," he stopped her words with a delicate nipping kiss, barely pulling away to say, "A hundred times over, you have and you still are – and I must ask it of you one more time."

"What do you mean?" she looked up into his gold eyes, reflected in her own, still dark with the aftermath of their mating.

"This Hive is in flux," he told her softly, "sick with the inability of its Queen to see beyond her own flawed schemes and its commander's weak and foolish incompetence. The one they hold – the one my own word of honour to our Matron has all but executed – knows more than the both of them together of the future of our people. He must endure, and my hand cannot be seen in his salvation."

"I…" she began slowly, leaning up a little, pushing enough at his shoulder that he lay back, and she leaned over him, to run her fingers through his still unbound hair. "…will go to him. I'll do everything I can to—"

He caught her hand suddenly, and she jumped, almost pulling against his restraining hand. Nipping her wrist as he brought it out of his hair, as he moved to rise over her again, holding her in place, and feeling her heart fluttering as surely as a specimen butterfly just pinned in place amid the moths; her hand clasped in his against the bed.

"No," he said firmly, releasing her hand and running his sharp fingernails along the inside of her arm as he brought his hand to tease at her breasts, rumbling a little as she moaned. "There is one thing you will _not_ do; that you will not allow."

She moaned again, and clutched at his forearm as his hand came to rest against the centre of her chest. She let her head fall back in anticipation, he knew, of the pain and pleasure to come for the both of them.

"Sermhuni," he insisted, and throwing back his head with a deep, sexual growl, he fed deeply, and gave the Gift of Life in a measure equal to his possession of her.

**

It was one of those nights that Keller wished she had left the lights on in her quarters. Lights from elsewhere in the city seeped in through the blinds covering her windows, lending the room patches of shadow that lurked like the depression that had descended over her.

She had lost the woman and it was unlikely that the child would survive the night, born with as many problems as he was and without any facility for neo-natal intensive care. She felt wretched.

The smell of antiseptic and blood was in her nose and with each breath she was reminded of her failure… of the last three weeks of analysing data, visiting off world colonies stricken with the Hoffan Syndrome, and those that were not… trying to put into practise the theory she had developed with Todd.

With Todd…

_Her answering deeply primal moan broke over him as a storm driven wave, and snarling, he threw back his head, fully open inside of her and came hard… milked hotly by her answering, shattering climax._

She let out a soft moan at the memory, and at the stab of pain that her body remembered as his alien physiognomy had thrust deep barbs to keep him close; ensure she could not reject him and the stinging flow of his alien fluids, mingling with her blood…

"Damn you… bastard!" she whispered into the shadows, her throat constricting around the words, and feeling suddenly filthy, she began to strip, dropping her clothes as she walked across the room toward the bathroom. He followed her.

_"Don't you touch me, you bastard! There's been more than enough of that!"_

_"Calm yourself, my—"_

_"Your nothing!"_

The artificial lighting made her look pale in the mirror, tired and haggard, and she hurried past to turn on the shower, too hot to step in, but not enough to fog the reflective surface in sufficient time to block out the barely faded bruises and bites. The sight of it sickened her, and she barely turned in time to avoid emptying what was left of the food in her belly all over the tiles.

Used, and she had allowed it…

Abused… Lied to…

_"No," he said firmly. "I spoke only the truth when I contacted you in Atlantis. Your acumen is impressive, my Jennifer, and from the moment I realised more of you, I wanted you."_

_She tried to look away, but he shifted his grasp to take both wrists into one hand and grasp her chin, bringing her reluctant gaze back to meet with his._

_"I wanted you," he repeated, "And you—"_

_"No," she moaned, wrenching her hands free, heedless of the scratches his fingers must have caused, to slap him again and again, before he pulled her closer again, holding her struggling form against his, tipping back her head, and capturing her lips in a crushing kiss._

_She fought him still, but her struggles slowed, the fists she pushed against his shoulders opened slowly, grasped the fabric of his shirt and clung to him, trembling as she surrendered to the kiss, until the arm he slipped around her narrow waist._

"No," she whispered, her voice just on the edge of a whine, denial suffocating her like the half remembered pain of waking in the infirmary, her whole body on fire from the inside out, and Doctor Meronine sitting at her beside, concern written all over her face.

_"Jen, there was nothing," the woman said softly, laying a gentle hand onto her arm. "I wish you'd tell me—"_

_"There's nothing _to_ tell," she answered. "You just said so."_

_"But you thought you could have--?"_

_"It was something I was afraid of… yeah. A possibility."_

_"Jen, we don't do this kind of thing for a possibility."_

_"You do as I damn well tell you to do!" she snapped, regretting her tone as the woman's face fell. "Sorry, just… I won't carry that… I __**can't**__!"_

_"Who, Jennifer… who did this?"_

She stifled a sob as she stepped into the water, barely adjusting the temperature enough that it wasn't scalding, and welcomed the tiny, hot daggers to run all over her, trying to wash it all away.

_He pulled her closer again, holding her struggling form against his, tipping back her head, and capturing her lips in a crushing kiss._

_She fought him still, but her struggles slowed, the fists she pushed against his shoulders opened slowly, grasped the fabric of his shirt and clung to him, trembling as she surrendered to the kiss, until the arm he slipped around her narrow waist._

"No," she moaned, and the moan became a sob as her body clenched at the memory, driving her back against the cold of the tiles of the shower stall. Her knees buckled, refusing to hold her as her sobs became deeper again. She wrapped her arms around her head as if to shield herself from the memories… curled up into a ball in the corner of the shower, lost between the cold of the tiles, the scalding of the water, and the shameful heat of the memory, the pleasure that still pulsed between her legs.

"No!" she wept again, and the voice answered softly.

_"Believe what you wish, my Jennifer, but the truth will become apparent in time."_

**

It was magnificent… sleek and black where it rested on the surface of the barren world. Here was a place which proved the Ancients had not been quite as clever as they'd thought, with the creation of their many devices, and the continuance of their many schemes. History had proven that two such – inexorably linked – had been the downfall of this world, and still, after countless cold millennia this ship, this Wraith Hive, possessed and piloted by the inevitable evolution of that race, remained the only thing to have to have been created here; created to herald the doom of its progenitors, nature incarnate. Only the fittest would survive.

From the top of the rise, where he watched as they loaded the supplies aboard the new Hive, Rissek couldn't help but wonder at it… the whole process of its creation. From one lonely, lovelorn girl, and the planetary energy the entire ship had grown into the pinnacle craft that it was.

They were almost done with the task of supplying the ship, and he would have to board soon. He would bring the child with him, as he had been instructed. So far all of their monitoring and listening had not suggested that the one they followed had been forced to give away their position, but that did not necessarily mean that they had been anything more than lucky in remaining free from attack by their enemies. He had delayed long enough for the Hive to be completely ready, but now they must leave.

It could not be much longer before they would receive the signal that would mean it was time to put the next phase of his plan into action, and there was much to do before that could happen.

**

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm not accusing you of any such thing," Woolsey said into the awkward silence left by Sheppard's outburst. "To suggest that I was is absolutely ludicrous."

"You just said," Sheppard leaned forward in his seat, his pointing hand resting along the top of the table. They'd been at this meeting for hours, and he was tired, and he was on edge, and nothing he'd heard so far convinced him that they should change any of their protocols – yet again. Sighing, he continued, "that every time my team, or any of the other teams go off world, we end up either coming in hot or bringing back the remnant population of settlements suffering increased culling by the Wraith. Sounds to _me_ like you're trying to say we're stirring them up, and I'm telling you that simply isn't true."

Woolsey frowned, and answered, "I recognise that _in many cases _the culling would happen anyway—"

"Exactly," he interjected.

"—I merely question, as I have always questioned, the involvement of Atlantis personnel in the conflict evolving in the Pegasus Galaxy," Woolsey finished.

"Wait a minute," Sheppard frowned, suddenly realising there was something he'd missed. "What do you mean _in many cases?_"

"I mean—" Woolsey started, meaning to go on, but Keller interrupted, rendering Sheppard's question more than a little redundant.

"But that's just the point," she said firmly. "We _are_ involved, whether we like it or not. We're as culpable here as the Wraith for what happens to those people out there."

Sheppard looked over at her, taking in her appearance. Oh, she'd made an effort to turn out for the meeting as presentable and personable as possible, and she had become somewhat reclusive of late, but he wasn't fooled. It was there in the hint of shadow beneath her eyes, and the pale, almost wan quality of her complexion; in the slightly mussed hair, and the way she held to her files tightly to hide the tremor in her hands. She was tired, and that meant she wasn't sleeping… and that she wasn't sleeping meant that she wasn't as 'over' the whole ordeal aboard Todd's Hive as she pretended; as she always insisted whenever any of them broached the subject.

"Doctor Keller?" Woolsey's query was clearly meant to invite her to go on.

"It was our arrival here that woke the Wraith from hibernation before their time; our interference that developed the Hoffan drug; our genetic manipulation that created Michael in the first place—"

"Doctor Keller," Varnerin's smooth, deep voice interrupted her miniature tirade, "are you questioning Doctor Beckett's ethics?"

"No, I'm questioning _his_." Keller snapped, pointing at Woolsey, until she obviously realised, as Sheppard could as clearly see as anyone else around the conference table, that her hand was shaking, and she pulled it back quickly, tucked it under her arm as she finished, "To suggest that we should just… leave them to the mercy of the Wraith when we have the ability to help them, even if only a little, is not only criminal, it's inhumane!"

"Speaking of Doctor Beckett," Woolsey said, apparently completely unconcerned by her accusations. "You seem to have been giving a significant amount of attention to his problem lately."

Keller nodded and said, "Well, once we got our hands on Michael's medical research, I thought I should make it a priority to look for a solution."

Sheppard couldn't help but think there were other, more personal motives behind her sudden, almost frantic search for a way to wake Beckett.

"And have you found one?" Woolsey asked.

"Maybe," she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I found the formula for a serum that, in lab tests at least, seems to be capable of stabilising the clone cells."

"So what's the problem?" Woolsey asked with a shrug that Sheppard thought was extremely insensitive. All of them around that table knew the state Carson had been in when he was placed in stasis, and for each and every one of them it was like losing the man all over again. For Woolsey to be so blasé about placing him at such risk stung, and stung badly as he remembered the doctor's last words to him…

_"Colonel, you bring her home, now, y'understand?" Beckett said, his voice barely above a whisper, nodding his head slightly as if to underline the importance of his request._

_"Count on it," Sheppard told him seriously as Beckett moved on._

Sheppard sighed. He'd done as the doctor asked, but still… she hadn't stayed, and now, according to Ronon, was missing again, and that did not bode well.

"Carson was near death when we put him in that chamber." Keller said, voicing his thoughts, his fears. "I don't want to take him out until I know for sure, but lab tests can only do so much."

Continuing with his obstinate insensitivity, Woolsey answered, "But that problem is never going to go away, is it?" He looked around at each of them before continuing, "If you've reached the limit of what your research can tell you, then you need to make a decision: either proceed, or put the matter aside and get back to your regular duties, right?"

Sheppard frowned, suddenly realising what the real issues were.

"Why not just order her to do it and have done with all this pussy footing around," he growled. "And while you're at it, why not just say that you think Doctor Keller needs to step away; take a break," he paused, and for a moment couldn't help but agree with _that_ particular assessment, "and that you want Beckett awake so that you can question him about Michael's organisation and his research to find an inroad in this conflict against the Wraith."

"You have to admit, Colonel Sheppard," Varnerin said, before Woolsey could speak, and he met the storm-crow's eyes coldly as the man continued, "on one or two of those issues, he does have a point, don't you think?"

**

Rissek stepped up to the main control console on the bridge, watching the tumbling glyphs give a visual read-out of the Hive's readiness. The others of the hybrid crew took their places as Rissek almost gingerly placed his hands into the control grips. He was not the one that led them, and he was as yet unsure if the semi-sentient machine would accept his touch, his commands.

He need not have worried. The feedback from the controls was so strong he almost snatched his hands away again. It was as though the Hive was desperate for contact, eager to please.

"Firing ground thrusters," he announced, more calmly than he felt, and at once the rumbling sounded around him, and could be felt through the contact with his feet on the deck as the Hive slowly lifted into the air. As the ship gained altitude the tremor in the deck lessened, as the thrusters disengaged, and the main engines took over the task of accelerating the Hive to escape velocity.

It was smooth, smoother even than the smaller, more manoeuvrable cruisers, in spite of the Hive's size, and Rissek couldn't help but wonder how the ship would handle in the vacuum of space.

He did not have to wonder for long. Even as he brought to mind the geostationary orbit he desired for the Hive, the ship's engines throttled back, and the secondary thrusters fired to put the Hive into the correct position. It was effortless.

"Now we can begin," he said softly, and released the controls to another hybrid that he summoned with a nod. "I will be in the laboratories, attending to our charges. See to it that the navigation sensors are correctly aligned and then inform me when we are ready to make the jump into hyperspace."

"Understood," the other hybrid answered.

Rissek stood aside and nodded once, delaying his inevitable departure from the bridge. He could not send any of the lesser ranking hybrids to do the tasks that he was expected to oversee, and while attending to the child, seeing to his comfort and safety on the voyage would be simple by comparison to some of the other tasks he had been called upon to perform, the other of his tasks he did not relish at all.

The Queen…

The Wraith female was half insane with barely sated hunger; kept on the brink of it so that her influence could not spread like a canker among the lesser hybrids, left weaker and leaderless by the necessities of this step of plans for The Cause. The one that led them had been most explicit in his instruction that she should not be allowed to regain her strength, either physical or of the mind. It was vital to ensure the safety of their leader on his return to them aboard this Hive that she did not.

Rissek did not understand why that should be. If He-That-Led-Them could resist the influences and the might of the Elder Wraith Queen, then how could such a lowly specimen as they had secured for his continued experiments hope to even touch him, let alone to gain control of him; bend him to her will, as Rissek suspected was his fear. Still – his was not to question. He had his orders, and his loyalty would see that he obeyed, even if he did not understand. The time would come where all would be explained to him and that was good enough for him.

"Is there something, Commander Rissek?"

The respectful address from the lesser hybrid that had taken his place at the controls pulled him from his contemplation and he took a breath, glancing at the other soldier.

"No, I was merely… taking a moment to prepare myself for what is to come," he answered, and with a nod he said, "You have your orders. Carry on."

Even so, as he left the bridge, he could not help but think that, sometimes, even the best laid of plans often had a way of straying from their intended course, especially if those from the ancient city became involved… interfered.

**

As he carefully folded the medical scrubs and set them onto the top of the bed, Carson closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Just for a moment," he whispered softly, "when you are in doubt, be still, and wait; when doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage." He was so focussed inside himself that he didn't hear the curtain open behind him. "So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still until the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists – as it surely will. Just for a moment—"

"Doctor Beckett?"

While unexpected, Marie's voice didn't startle him, and he turned to her with a smile. "Carson is just fine right now, Marie, while I'm not on duty."

"Doctor Keller asked me to check if there was anything else you need?" she answered him, not acknowledging, he noticed, the permission he'd granted.

"No, love," he said, patting his shirt pocket, where his medication was carefully stored. "I think I have everything I need."

"All right, well… when you're ready, Doctor McKay is waiting to walk you to your quarters," Marie told him softly, then leaning forward said more quietly, "I think he's missed you."

"Good old Rodney," Carson said fondly.

"We all have, Doctor Be— Carson," Marie said, amending the appellation at his look.

"It's good to be back," he told her, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "And I expect I'll be back at work in no time."

"There's no hurry," Marie told him. "We'd all rather you eased yourself back in gently."

"You should listen to the advice for once, Carson," Rodney's voice came from the other side of the curtain just before the scientist stepped inside. "Don't want the IOA to have a reason to… ship you off home now, do we?"

"Thanks, Marie," Carson said softly, and smiled as she began to draw back the curtain. He turned to his friend and straightening, greeted him as stoutly as he could. "Rodney, what brings you here?"

"Oh, you know," McKay said, obviously trying to sound casual, "I was passing and I heard that they were letting you go, so…"

"Well, it's very good of you," Carson said. He couldn't fault McKay for his concern, though, as usual, his subtlety left a lot to be desired. "Perhaps we can walk together… if you were planning to head to your quarters, that is."

"Sounds like a plan," McKay answered, waving his arms a little. "So… you er… you ready or… do you need to check with Doctor Keller before you go?"

"No, I'm good," Carson answered, and didn't miss the flash of concern that passed through the other man's eyes at the mention of Jennifer's name. He frowned slightly, and wondered if that wasn't another reason that McKay had wanted to walk with him. He too had noticed that Keller seemed distracted, and didn't entirely look well.

He reached for the bag that sat on the top of the bed, but McKay beat him to it, picking it up with a shrug.

"Something to do with my hands," he said, "You know how I get without a computer or something to hold."

"Aye," Carson said softly, though he knew differently. As they began to walk, he asked, "So… what's the gossip then? I hear Colonel Sheppard had a bit of a run in with an alternate version of Michael."

"Boy, was that ever messed up," McKay answered, and the fragile edge of his voice told Carson that there was much, much more to that whole story than he had come to know.

**

She could not help but be moved for his plight. They had not even bothered to replace the restraints, or to dress him again after the Queen had finished visiting her ordeal upon him at her Hive Second's hands. The wound, so low in his belly on the right side of his body that it was almost at his groin, slowly seeped a dark purple trail of blood over his thigh, and where she laid her hand against his sweat-damp brow, it burned under her hand.

Carefully, she unstoppered the vial the Hive Second had given her. Reaching beyond his shoulder, which rested against her knee, she took his hand and brought it to rest palm up beside his head, which rested in her lap.

Even so soon, the fever had left the edges of his feeding slit cracked. The skin there was puckered and brittle, raw where his own unused enzyme scalded the damaged flesh.

Slowly, barely a drop at a time, Isla began to let the thick, viscous liquid fall from the vial onto the withered husk of his feeding hand, before running the palm of her own small hand against his, wakening the listless barbs, stimulating the maw to and almost desperate seeking before beginning the careful dripping treatment again.

The deathly ill Wraith twitched under her attention, his closed eyes moving rapidly, caught in some dark reverie.

"What is it you see…?" Isla asked softly, running the fingers of her free hand through his tangled, matted hair.

**

It had begun from nowhere. As she rolled in the threadbare blanket, the chills from the draughts that seeped under the door of the poorly built hovel were little combated by the insipid warmth from the dying fire.

Teyla moaned softly.

_The hallway was long, and cold mist crept over her bare ankles, teased around the bottom of her skirt. The ruddy light at the end of the darkened passage was cloying, and the copper smell hung heavy in the air, thickening the closer she came._

_There were voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying…so, incautiously, she moved further along the corridor – closer._

_"What I did," her heart lurched as the triple tones she recognise so well rolled as an agonised gasp across the distance, clear now, "I did for the good of our—"_

_"You!"_

_She crossed the threshold, and the malice pierced her gut, threatened to suffocate her. She felt his agony, felt the terrible violation being wrought on him, and her eyes filled with tears as she tried to reach him… _

**

_Filaments from the walls of the gestation chamber pieced his wrists, holding him high so that his feet barely touched the ground, aggravating old injuries, barely healed through the forced acceptance of the Gift. Tubules snaked across from the pods, burrowed, a white hot agony, into his belly. Sucking, greedy, relentless._

_The Hive was hungry – its Queen predatory, needful._

_"You can't do this!" he growled through the pain._

_=you denied me my desires once= =once= =once= =once= =once=_

_She reached out a hand to run her blade tipped fingers over his chest, a parody of a caress._

_=now I will take what is rightfully mine= =mine= =mine= =mine= =mine=_

_"What I did," he gasped, barely able to speak for the new wave of agony burst inside him as the Hive burrowed deeper still at the Queen's behest. "I did for the good of our—"_

_"You!"_

_He turned his head, pulling painfully on the restraining filaments that pressed deeper as if they knew he would, in the next moment, try to move… and move he did… fighting and struggling, ignoring his own pain to roar in angry fear – terrified for the newcomer as she tried to reach him._

_The Queen's outstretched feeding hand connected with her, driving her back against the bulkhead, out of his sight, but not out of hearing… and her cry of agony was unmistakable…_

**

Colonel Caldwell took the steps from the floor of the Gate Room up to the Control Room and the offices beyond almost two at a time; energised by the eventual arrival of the newly refitted Daedalus.

She had handled perfectly throughout the whole of the three week journey, not a system out of place. The engineers had done a perfect job, and the new shield system, at least in field tests, responded exactly as it should. He felt good – confident.

He was about to knock on the door of Woolsey's office when the other man opened the door.

"Ah, Steven," Woolsey greeted him cheerfully, "they told me you'd landed. I trust you had an… uneventful journey."

"We didn't run across any Wraith, or any of Michael's people if that's what you mean," Caldwell answered, stepping inside at the other man's invitation.

"Well, that's a positive anyway," Woolsey said, moving to sit behind his desk again as he waved the colonel into another seat. "Things have been quite… troublesome here."

"Oh?" Caldwell questioned as he sat. "The usual or...?"

"Culls on the increase, for the most part, though our people seem to be running across the Wraith in about seven out of ten missions," Woolsey said quietly.

"And Michael's people," Caldwell asked.

"Oh, they're still out there, though not quite so overtly troublesome," Woolsey said.

"Overtly?" Caldwell asked, frowning in puzzlement and not a little worry.

"We hear reports from time to time about hybrid activity in certain parts of the galaxy, but we've had the good fortune not to come into direct conflict with them." Woolsey made a bit of a face, and Caldwell couldn't help but feel that there was something that he wasn't saying.

"I get the feeling there's a 'but' in there, right around now," he said.

"But," Woolsey said with a sigh, "When Michael is quiet, when we can't actually _tell_ what it is he's up to, then you can be pretty sure that whatever it is, it's not going to be good news for the Pegasus Galaxy."

"No," Caldwell said astutely, "There's something specific. Something you're not saying." He fixed the other man with a serious look, one eyebrow slightly raised. "If I'm going to commit my ship to the protection of the Atlantis Expedition, Mister Woolsey, the least you can do is tell me exactly what's going on. What's worrying you?"

"It's Teyla," Woolsey said softly. "She's not with her people… to all intents and purposes, she's not _anywhere_."

"What do you mean, 'not anywhere?' She has to be somewhere, people don't just… vanish out of existence," Caldwell said, pragmatic and realistic as ever.

"They do where Michael is concerned," Woolsey said.

**

_The Queen's outstretched feeding hand connected with her chest, driving her back against the bulkhead. She felt the barbs of the Wraith's feeding hand sink deep into her chest and then the agony began, and she cried out…_

The dream broke suddenly, and instantly, before she had properly woken, Teyla began fighting the restraining hands that were around her wrists. The grip only tightened.

"Easy… easy!" A man's voice. "It's just a dream… a dream… we all get them every once in a while."

"I am…" She took a deep breath and forced herself to stillness, to be rewarded by freedom from the restraining touch. "…sorry to have woken you."

"It's all right," he said. "I don't sleep much anyway. Can't. Insomnia."

He turned away for a moment to pick up a small tin cup, in which a glowing coal sat, barely alive. Digging out a scrape in the dirt floor between the two of them, he tipped out the coal and began to build a small fire with the straw and the discarded wood nearby. It did little to warm the chill that had settled into Teyla's heart.

Months…

It had been months since last she dreamed of Michael. Not since she had returned to her people in fact, when they had held the memorial service for Kanaan, though that had not been so much a dream, she felt, as a vision – a farewell.

Yet now, with so much unrest among the Wraith, and uneasy murmurs filling the spaces, once silent in her mind, thoughts of him, dreams of him had returned and had led her in search of the source of rumours she had heard – vague whispers of an older, more powerful Hive, and of a prisoner, upsetting the balance of its queen.

The rumours had led her here, a little known world, its Stargate miles away from this, the primary settlement – if settlement this random collection of ill made huts could be considered such.

She blinked, and looked at the man, giving him an apologetic smile. "I am sorry. Sleep is still heavy on me, I—"

She broke off and tilted her head as every part of her became filled with a sudden, deep chill.

"Something is wrong?" the man asked.

Forgetting herself, Teyla whispered breathlessly, "They are coming."

"They?" he frowned at her in confusion, "They who? I'm sorry, I don't—"

Realising her mistake, Teyla took a huge breath to try and steady herself, "Nothing… nothing, I think I must still be remembering my dream, too close to it. It is not often that I have it, and… when I do, it is always—"

The man laid his hand on her arm. "I understand," he said.

The feeling within Teyla only increased until her head was buzzing with it almost painfully, and every nerve in her body was on edge. The hovel began to feel like a prison around her. She pulled her arm away from the man's touch.

"I am Bouret," he said, introducing himself as she did. "Forgive me, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I am Tey—" she stopped herself quickly, and using her mother's name, finished, "Tegan."

"Are you certain you are all right," he asked, obviously responding to the apparent catch in her voice. "You have become terribly pale."

"I need some air," she gasped as the sensations caused by the coming Wraith became too much for her to bear. There was no mistake – this was the Hive for which she had been searching. She only wondered how long it would be before their Darts rent the air with their arrival.

"Let me help you," Bouret said, and wrapped his large hand around her upper arm to help her to her feet.

"Thank you," Teyla said, stumbling a little as they made their way outside.

The air outside was heavy, expectant, as though with the coming of a storm, and she could not help but glance skyward, expecting at any moment to see the pointed, needle noses of the Darts splitting the clouds.

Instead the clouds swirled, rumbled in a maelstrom of thunder; lightning split their pregnant swirls that were already lighted in the strange colours of ignited atmosphere. It took Teyla a moment or two to realise, that it was not Darts that would bring the Wraith to this place, but the Hive itself.

"Bouret," Teyla said softly, alarmed. "Who is in charge here?"

"Our headman, why?" Bouret frowned, trying to support her even as she tore her gaze from the sky and leaned her hands on her knees as if winded.

"Look…" she gasped, "…at the sky."

Teyla trembled, worried. Never had the nearness of the Wraith taken her this way. The coldness, the aches, yes, but this… breathless incapacity, never… except… once…

_=I will find you=_

_"Michael!" she called out to him in panic at the malevolence which flooded into her. It was raw and angry… violence incarnate. It gripped every part of her, threatening to crush her and at the same time tear her into atoms. She felt the movement of her child become as frantic as her breath, and unaware entirely of what she was doing she clutched at his supporting arm, at the same time fighting to be free of him, fighting his grasp. "Why!"_

_"Don't," he told her and moved to cup her face in his other hand, keep her head against his shoulder. "Teyla, stop. Let go."_

_She felt him take in the deepest of breaths, felt the heat of it as he exhaled, long and slow. The pain she felt began to soften, to recede… the trashing of the child within her slowed, and the vice around her lungs, stopping her own breath loosened. She took in a deep breath… and as the panic lessened she stopped struggling._

_"Why is she doing this?" the words came out as little more than a breathless whisper as the warmth of Michael's hand came away from her cheek. Seeking a moment's solace she did not lift her head from his shoulder, but turned it against his chest and found some small measure of comfort in his rapid, but slowing heartbeat._

_"She is dangerous," his voice rumbled in his chest. "She will stop at nothing, Teyla. Don't try to find her and connect with her."_

_Taking another breath she started to turn in his supportive embrace, to look up at him._

_"But Michael, why? What does she __**want**__ with you?" she asked._

A feeling akin to panic deepened her fear and added to the discomfort. If the rumours she had heard were true, if this _was_ the Hive that held Michael and if these feelings were the result of being in such close proximity to the Queen that had promised to be both his and her destruction, then she had to get aboard, somehow, and find him; find him quickly before what she feared had already happened could come to pass.

The man at her side gasped, but it was not a fearful gasp.

"The Hive," he whispered. "They have come for us. At last we will go to serve!" Then, just as she turned to speak with him again, Bouret left, running back toward the little shanty town of huts and hovels, calling as he went. "They're here! Our masters have come at last."

Teyla turned her eyes skyward, to watch as the enormous black carapace began to descend from the clouds, a beetle out of nightmare coming to settle against what meagre vegetation this planet afforded those that scraped a living here. She could, in part, understand why these people were so eager to meet their fate.

**

"You sent for a tech?" McKay said as he walked into the lab. He smiled at Jennifer. She didn't look any better to him than she had in a long while. Her skin was pale where she had accidentally wiped away the make-up she was trying to use to conceal it, her eyes red rimmed, and she held herself in that way that people did when they were uncomfortable, or tired.

"Rodney," Keller said, and gave him a smile. "You didn't have to come yourself. It's just one of the electron microscopes is not talking to the computer and monitor. I'm sure it's just a… a loose wire or something."

"It's no trouble," McKay said, and started pulling panels on the microscope she indicated. "What are you… what are you working on anyway?"

He tried to sound casual, as if he was just asking why she needed the microscope, but really he wanted to know if it was something to do with her, or with the research she had been doing with Todd. Something, anything to get her to open up to him – allay his still rampant suspicions.

"I was testing out a few of the formulae I found in Michael's database to see if any of them could help with the reversion of the Major." She sighed, then. "I don't know what they are, but they certainly seem to have nothing to do with the hybridisation process or its reversal."

She ran a hand over her face, to push her hair aside, and McKay couldn't help but notice the addition of the dark circles under her eyes to the paleness of her skin.

"Jen," he couldn't help himself, "Maybe you're working too hard. Maybe you need to take a step _back_ for a little while."

"Rodney," she snapped, "someone has to analyse this stuff, find a way to help Evan. It's not just going to happen by itself."

"No," McKay tried to keep his voice even, "No, it's not, but you have Carson now. He's _worked_ with Michael, surely he can _help_ you. You don't have to take this all on yourself."

"Rodney," Jennifer practically exploded. "Why won't you just let it go? I'm fine… just _tired._" She started pacing as he watched her, "Tired of being questioned all the time; tired of getting nowhere with helping Lorne; tired of… nightmares, and… and… insomnia, and... mem—"

She didn't get any further, because McKay put himself in her path and as she turned she collided with him and the shock of it silenced her.

"Jen… Jenny," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her, "It's all right. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Damn it, Rodney!" she exclaimed, and slapped at his chest with her two open palms, trying to push him away. "Just please… leave. Me. Alo—"

Instead of pushing at him then, her hands closed into fists on the front of his shirt, and he realised, with some alarm, that she was becoming a weight in his arms, a dead weight, and as he looked at her he saw her eyes start to roll back in her head that lolled on a suddenly limp neck.

"God, Jen," he said, panicked, "It's all right. I've got you."

He lowered her carefully to the ground then, fumbling for his headset until he realised that he was actually closer to the Infirmary than not, and called out instead, "Help! Somebody! In here!"

**

It had taken Teyla many long moments to gain enough control of herself to be able to stick with the gathering villagers. She needed to ground herself, and quickly – and the easiest way to do so was to find something to put in her belly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

She paced, keeping her face downturned, trying to make herself as unnoticed as possible. There were people in the village that had taken a dislike to her since she had arrived weeks ago; those that were suspicious and the last thing she wanted was for one of them to give her over to the Wraith. Yes, she wanted to get aboard the Hive, but not as a prisoner, but as one of those chosen from among the villagers; to be taken aboard to serve. She would have a certain freedom then – if only she could keep her hybrid abilities in check.

Passing a basket that contained some crusts of bread she snatched one, not too much as she did not wish to take from these people more than they could give, but as the small party of Wraith drew nearer to the gathering, and her blood began singing its terrible song into her brain, the urgency with which she understood the need to shut herself down only increased, enticing her toward panic. She did not like the way she was reacting. She did not like it one little bit.

Weaving in and out of the villagers, she joined with a knot of people that were all milling in an area to one side of the open space at the village centre. Some were standing, but most there were already kneeling, or crouching low to the ground.

The heavy fall of booted feet almost reverberated through her head, and seeing double from the effects of it, she forced her trembling hands to bring the bread to her lips, biting, chewing and swallowing quickly, almost choking herself in the process – drawing unwanted attention.

She made herself as small as she could, crouched in on herself, and hunched over the crust of bread she had been eating, as though protectively, but from the corner of her eye, Teyla watched closely as the Wraith commander stalked among the huddle of villagers, as if looking for something… or someone. She was coiled like a snake preparing to strike.

The commander's boots came to a halt beside her, and Teyla held her breath. If she had to reveal herself now all would be lost; any chance she had of gaining ingress into the Hive gone in a moment. She let out a sub-vocal growl, almost little more than a sigh, and though her insides burned from the proximity of the Wraith, she did not move.

"This one," the Wraith commander said, nodding toward one of the nearby villagers, "And these – they look strong enough to serve well."

"What of the women," a sub-commander asked, his voice puncturing the tense silence among the huddle. "We will need to bring at least a few to ensure—"

The commander cut him off with a swift backhand cuff that sent him tumbling to land directly in front of Teyla. She gasped and involuntarily drew back; dread descending coldly as the commanders eyes sought her out.

"That one," he said, but she thought she barely heard the words for the mental echo of his instruction to the drones.

_((bring her to me)) ((bring her)) ((bring her)) ((to me)) ((me)) ((me)) ((me)) ((me))_

**

McKay jumped to his feet when he saw Beckett coming out of the lab adjacent to the infirmary, and hurried over toward the other man. Like a scalded cat, he'd sat waiting, legs jiggling up and down as he sought to keep from panicking over what might have caused Jennifer's collapse.

"Rodney," Beckett greeted him as he fell into step with the doctor.

Try as he might he couldn't see, let alone have a hope to decipher the voodoo hieroglyphics on the paper held in Beckett's hand, as they walked.

"Give it up, McKay," Beckett said after a moment. "Even if you could read them, you know full well I can't show you."

He sighed. "Then just tell me that she's going to be okay."

Beckett stopped walking then, and drew him back into the doorway of the storage room. McKay gasped, startled, and it did little to assuage his fears.

"Supposing you tell me what it is you're afraid I'll find, hmm?" Beckett said, and McKay couldn't help but think his friend sounded more than a little stern. "What's goin' on, Rodney?"

"Wha—well, I… she…" McKay stammered, "God, Carson, no, you don— she's not—"

"Just. Tell me," Beckett said, "What do you know?"

"Something happened, Carson," he said, looking down, "While we were aboard Todd's Hive, and she's not been right since."

"What kind of something, Rodney?" Beckett asked.

"Well that's just it," McKay answered, "I don't know. No one does, and she won't say. The nearest Sheppard and I got was that whatever it was, Todd apparently dealt with it, but… she was bruised and… and…."

"And what?" Beckett said with a sigh, "Look, I can't _help_ Jennifer unless she or you tell me what happened that could have… what happened."

McKay didn't miss Beckett's slip.

"So she does _need_ help then. There _is_ something wrong?" he asked, swallowing down bile that was threatening to allow his lunch an encore appearance.

"She needs to rest," Beckett told him, and McKay could tell that was a concession on his part, and knew the doctor well enough to know that there would be no wheedling anything further out of him. Suddenly his eyes filled with tears, and all the pressure of keeping all the things he'd seen, all the fears of what might have happened became too much for him. The words all came tumbling out and he was as sure as he was of the calculation to ascertain the theoretical mass of subspace radioactive particles present during wormhole travel that he was making little sense.

"She said that Todd dealt with it, Carson, but I can't help thinking that he's the one that attacked her in the first place. She was bruised, and scratched… like she'd been held. Like she'd been— an… an… and so on edge! God, Carson, you wouldn't believe how bad she got and Todd… Todd was so overbearing, so possessive, it was like—"

"Slow down, Rodney. Slow down," Beckett's hand on his arm was like a soothing balm and he stopped, took several deep breaths, looking at the doctor apologetically. Beckett looked at him seriously and asked, "D'you think he might have fed on her?"

"I dunno, maybe," McKay admitted. "It was the first thing Sheppard and I suspected."

"The first thing, but not the only thing," Beckett said, and it comforted McKay to know that the doctor hadn't lost the sharpness of his analytical skills while he was in stasis. However, when it came to it, it felt… wrong of him… stupid in some ways to admit his suspicions out loud to another person. Especially since Jennifer had so vehemently denied that he was right, but then – perhaps that was the problem.

"No, it's… it's stupid," he said.

"Rodney McKay, do I have to order you to spit it out?" Beckett said.

"Erm… actually, Carson," at the question, McKay slipped back to his usual arrogant self, "much as I hate to disappoint you, but you can't order me to do anything because technically—"

"Technically," Beckett said, overlapping him, and cutting him off, "as Acting Chief Medical Officer, under certain circumstances, I outrank everybody. Now…?"

McKay wilted as Beckett looked at him pointedly. "I thought that maybe Todd had forced himself on her," he said, barely separating the words.

Beckett blinked, and for just a second McKay thought he saw a guarded frown cross his face, before the doctor creased his face into a puzzled, astonished face of uncertainty.

"Rodney, he's a Wraith."

"I told you it was—"

"Look," Beckett said, "she just needs to rest, all right? Why don't you wait outside while I go talk to Jennifer? I'll call you in when I'm done."

"Okay," McKay said softly, and closing his eyes for a moment, leaned on the door frame while Beckett gave his arm a squeeze. When he opened his eyes, he watched as Beckett approached Keller's bed, and pulled up a stool along side.

**

_The Queen's outstretched feeding hand connected with her, driving her back against the bulkhead, out of his sight, but not out of hearing… and her cry of agony was unmistakable…_

"Teyla!"

Michael's eyes snapped open as he cried out her name breathlessly, amid all the pain he felt in his body, the centre of his chest hurt worst of all. It was a hollow emptiness, an inability to draw breath or warmth that sent a burning to his gut and stung his eyes until they ran.

"Hush…" a soft voice all but sang, close by his ear, "gentle now… it was just a dream."

Slowly he became aware of a warmth beside him, a hand cupped around his own; his right. He gasped, and tried to draw away.

"No!" he hissed through the pain of movement as fresh pain erupted through his head and low in his belly. Still he forced out more words. "What are you doing?"

"Stop. Stop trying to move," the woman's voice was insistent. "I have barely stopped the bleeding as it is."

"What are you doing," Michael snarled, turning his head to look at her, but everything in him screamed weakness; surrender. He knew he was closer to death than he had ever been, an assessment that was confirmed when the woman spoke again.

"Trying to keep you alive," she said. "Let me have your hand."

"What is it?" he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Sometimes, when Wraith are young, they are stricken with a sickness that delays their development and renders them unable to feed," she said.

Michael's suspicions flared. How could a woman, a mere worshipper know so much about the maturation cycles of young Wraith. It was a closely guarded, elite clique, and no Attendant would be found aboard a travelling Hive.

"Who _are_ you?" he hissed, weakly grabbing her by the sleeve and pulling her closer, beginning to reach out with his mind toward hers.

_-the scientist did not send you- -how is it you come here- -why do you tend me?-_

He felt her capacity to answer, the fear that bound the ability away from her consciousness, and pushed against the boundaries of it… the edges of her memories blurring with her current reality.

"My name is Isla," she said, tugging against his grasp, pulling herself free, and reaching over to snatch at his feeding hand. "And I am here because you must. Live. The scientist of which you speak is no longer aboard this Hive. Please… release my mind… you must rest. Your psionic pathways were damaged in the interrogation and if you lose control—"

The warning came too late.

As Isla tried to pull away from the grasp of his mind, impressions, images and sensations rushed along open pathways, the swirling, barely held consciousness of the Hive came over him, a crushing wave, suffocating, terrifying in its intensity and in defensive reflex, he lashed out along the tatters of the one remaining pathway he could sense.

**

Carson drew up the stool to the side of the bed and then pulled the curtained screen around to give them a little privacy before sitting down. She was looking away from him, her expression just a little on the sullen side of blank. He sat for a moment, just watching her, waiting to see if she would say anything before he spoke. She didn't.

"Jennifer," he called softly.

As if suddenly waking, Keller took a deep breath in and blinked, turning to face him, putting a smile that he could tell was half hearted onto her face.

"Carson," she said, "they didn't ship you back to Earth then."

"No," he said, adding gently after a moment, "under the circumstances, and with the recommendation of Professor Varnerin, the IOA has decided that it would be more beneficial to the Atlantis Expedition if my rehabilitation and debriefing were handled… in house, as it were."

"Lucky for us, I guess," Keller said, and looked down at her hands. "So… how 'relieved of duty' am I?"

Carson shook his head.

"That's no what this is about, Jennifer," he said softly. "I mean, aye, you'll need to take a rest, so I'll be putting you on medical restriction for a wee while, but you're still Atlantis' CMO. I'm just… stepping in while you find your feet."

Keller continued to look at her hands until eventually he reached over and covered them with one of his own. She looked up at him then.

"So… what's wrong with me?" she asked, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was afraid to hear his answer.

"I think," he said slowly, "that mebbe… you could tell _me_ that."

She shook her head, her eyes shifting away from his. He gave her hand a little squeeze.

"All right," he started, "The blood-work we did earlier shows that you're suffering from some form of anaemia so… I ran some more tests to try and figure out what could be causing that."

"I see," she said, "but it's easy enough solved, right? A standard course of—"

"Jennifer," he cut her off gently. "Love, I've been going over the full blood panel and there are some things I need to ask you. I just need to reassure you that what goes on in this room is between you and me. No one else needs to know any—"

"Carson, what are you talking about?" she asked him, her voice fragile. "There's nothing for anyone else _to_ know."

"Did Todd feed on you? Give you the Gift?" He made the question as innocuous as he could, recognising that she was on edge, and that he needed to tread delicately, but he also knew that his effectiveness to treat her would be increased if he could ascertain the reason for the unusually high levels of Wraith enzyme in her bloodstream that appeared to be slow to break down.

"What? No," Keller said, and her voice held a little laugh as though she thought the suggestion ridiculous, but the brittle quality in her voice remained, and still she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Who told you that? Did Rodney—I… he… Okay, we were working close together but—"

"But he did do something," Carson pressed gently. "Didn't he, Love?"

"Carson—" she started, her voice trembling a little.

"Look at me," he said, dipping his head to find her eyes. Already there were tears welling in them and he almost stopped there and then, but he knew that if he didn't help her now, he might never be able. "The blood panel shows that there's Wraith enzyme, and remnant cellular material in your bloodstream. Did Todd… Did he force himself on you? Jennifer, did Todd rape you?"

The young woman in front of him dissolved, pulling her hands out from under his, and covering her face. Her shoulders shook, and the sobs she gave came from deep inside.

"All right, sweetheart," he barely spoke above a whisper, and standing reached for her shoulder, to lay his hand there, be a comfort. "You're safe now; it's going to be all right."

Keller shook her head.

"We're going to look after you," he said, "make sure—"

Her sudden peal of laughter cut him off. His blood slowed to a turgid crawl in his veins.

"Sure? Make sure?" The laughter continued, and Keller pushed at him, hard, all but slapping his hand away from her shoulder.

"Jennifer," he said, catching hold of her flailing arm, and holding tightly as she tried to pull it away, to slap him. "Love, you need to calm down. Come on now… deep breath for me."

"Let go of me!"

"Marie," Carson called back, "Draw me up two milligrams of haloperidol lactate if you please—"

"No," He had hoped that she was reachable enough that merely the threat of the sedation would make her reach inside herself; calm, but Keller began to fight harder, "Carson, no, please!"

"—quick as you can," he concluded, holding Keller more tightly the harder she struggled, still trying to calm her, "Just try and relax, Jennifer… everything's going to be all right."

"No drugs," she pleaded, taking a deep breath. "See, I'm calm… no?" Marie arrived at Carson's side, more than capable, he knew, of assisting. Keller lashed out again, even as she said, "I'm calm! Please… really _fucking_ calm! I'm not psychotic. I—"

"Sharp scratch," Carson said softly, bringing the now uncapped needle toward her arm.

"Please, Carson," Keller said, and stopped struggling quite so much. "All right, I'm sorry… I lost it…" she took a sobbing breath, "but it's… he's… It's just so much…"

Carson paused, looking at her, he said softly, "Jen, nobody is saying that y'have to act as though nothing happened. Clearly it did… but this…" he shook his head, "this is _not_ all right. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

Keller shook her head, and lay back against the pillows. "I can't… Carson, I close my eyes and—"

"Look at me," he waited until she did. "Replaying traumatic events is perfectly common, and after something like this… I would be more worried if you weren't. What does worry me is that you're not resting. It's not helping with your state of mind, Jennifer, and if you don't try and get some sleep then I _will_ medicate, do you understand?"

"Yes," Keller replied, her voice small. Carson patted her gently on the arm, and put the cap back onto the needle.

"I'm going to let you get some rest, and I'll come back and see you in a little while, then we can discuss some treatment options, all right?" When she nodded he stepped away and drew Marie with him, speaking quietly as they crossed the infirmary. "Keep an eye on her, Marie… and let's do… thirty minute obs to start with. I'll just be in the laboratory if you need me." He started that way and then suddenly remembered, "Oh, and go tell Doctor McKay that he'll have to come back later. Tell him she's getting some much needed sleep."

Carson crossed into the lab, trusting that Marie would do as he said, and turned on the computer. He pulled up the analysis logs from the main drive, and frowned softly.

"Don't tell me this thing has thrown another glitch again," he said as he watched the gaps forming in the data file.

**

The Queen growled as Rissek came near and her chains rattled across the Hive floor as she tried to reach him.

"You waste your time," he told her, pitching his voice low. "I know the limits of your reach."

"Release me!" she hissed, and he felt her trying to push with her weakened mind. Quickly he pressed the device against her neck, activating it. She howled with the pain of it as the energy in the rod, designed to send pulsing waves along nerve pathways, crackled against her skin.

"You know that your release will not come," he said as he pulled the rod away from her flesh, "until He-that-leads-us has returned."

The Wraith snarled again, and pulled once more against her chains. "I will _never_ give him what he needs – Never!"

Rissek shrugged, "Then the chances are that he will kill you and take it anyway."

She growled, then tossed back her head and hissed loudly.

**

Unfamiliar nervousness bit with the jaws of a serpent and she was unable to prevent the reflex to pull away from the unyielding grasp that was clamped around her upper arm, all but dragging her along in the wake of the Wraith commander. He turned his head slightly to hiss in her direction.

"It would be better, woman, were you not to try fighting me."

Teyla felt the answering growl bubbling inside her. She caught hold of it before she could give it voice. She was in sight of the Hive and any lapse now would most likely bring her death and not merely deny her access.

She took another huge breath, meaning to calm herself; meaning to force her jarred senses and the almost painful agitation of her flesh, where the closeness of kindred DNA woke unwelcome sensation, to acquiescence. Fire and ice rippled along mental pathways long forgotten, long denied and her efforts became fruitless.

With a cry, she pulled against the commander's grasp, and snarling, lashed out with her other hand, his arrogance, his certainty that she would comply with his instructions lending her a moment of surprise and she wrenched herself free.

The maelstrom did not ease. Mixed physical agony and the blackness of an emotional distress so deep, so strong that it was almost a primal cry ripped through every atom of compassion that made her, and an answering shattered sob burst the poorly held dam that held back the hate. She lashed out again, driving her hand up against the underside of the taller Wraith's chin.

"You will not _touch _me!" she snarled, dropping into a defensive crouch, even as the drones began to close in.

"No!" the commander hissed aloud to the drones that had moved in his defence. "She is _mine._"

Her answer came not with words, but with the ferocity of her next attack. Although the drones had halted at the commander's orders, she was still surrounded. If she were going to find her way to safety now, she would have to fight her way free. Rolling aside from the oncoming Wraith, her hands closed around the long branch lying in her path.

Weapon in hand, she hit hard against the wrist of the outstretched hand, raking against the skin at the side of his neck as she threw herself close, inside the deadly reach and struck again, hard, at the commander's chest.

"Nothing is yours," she growled as the desperate force of her blow made him take a half step back. "Nothing and no one."

"Insolent—"

"Not I!"

He came at her then. In his eyes she saw, and felt from the sensations streaming from him, that her defiance had driven him to fury. She raised her makeshift weapon, taking the backhand blow aimed her way against the stick, but the force of it jarred her arms almost to numbness. She stumbled backwards, her ankle turning on the uneven ground, further unbalancing her.

Still he advanced, and to give herself time to recover from the added pain she began to circle, stepping to the side, bringing herself closer to the Hive. She held no illusion, to make an attempt on the Hive would be suicide, but if she could throw him off, if she could confuse the issue long enough to find a path out of danger...

It proved her biggest mistake. As she retreated against the semi-organic hull, its massive bulk dwarfing her; a pale spot against its relentless dark, the crushing turmoil blossomed inside her again, as if somehow amplified by the quasi-sentience. It was as if the Hive reached out to her as some kind of unrealised kindred spirit.

_One day… perhaps… you will understand._

Her knees buckled, but before she could even register the weakness consciously enough to realise that she was falling forward, grasping fingers closed around her arm and drew her close to the whirl of fury that was the advance of the Wraith commander.

She caught a rush of pale green from the corner of her eye the moment before the stunning blow to the side of her face stole what remained of her awareness and she flew back against the hard side of the Hive.

As she gasped for breath, as the events of the past few moments wrapped themselves around her, binding her deep in the trouble and danger of her position, the commander reached again to catch her by the shoulder of her shirt. He leaned down to leer into her face, his lips drawn back into an angry, hungry snarl. She saw his intention in the fierce glint in his gold eyes even before he brought his hand to bear against her chest.

Answering his snarls with an angry cry of disbelief, she struggled weakly against him.

Long ago, she had spoken to John at great length as he recovered from the ordeal of being fed on by Todd. He had described the searing agony, the sudden desperate awareness of his beating heart, and the desolation of the sure and certain knowledge that, within minutes, his life would be at an end. Holding him through the emotional pain of those hours – feeling with him as he relived each moment – even that could never have prepared her for the rending scream of every cell that echoed inside her in the moment it began.

"No," she whispered, somehow fighting against the coming of it.

_...not now... ...not yet... ...not this..._

_fightfightfight_

Indignation swirled through her weakening defence, bolstering her, a chill that moved between her and the Wraith, detaching her from the gathering fear. Of its own accord her hand reached out and closed around the hilt of the commander's knife, wrenching it free of its sheath, only to sheath it anew in the flesh of the Wraith's thigh, driving it home to the hilt.

His concentration broken, the Wraith commander roared with the pain of it, pulled away, and released she fell backwards, falling to role beneath its curving chitinous base. She gasped for breath, and pressed her hand against her chest to find it coming away sticky with her blood.

Angry tears burned her eyes. She was so close. _So_ close only to fail; only to be prevented from reaching her goal, boarding the Hive, on which, more than ever, she was convinced her quarry was held – prisoner to their shared enemy.

She could not reach him alone and as hard as it would be, she knew, to convince the others to help in his rescue, they were the only hope that existed.

Hurriedly, barely recovered enough to be more than functional; more than to obey the instinct for flight, she turned onto her belly and crawled, pulling herself along the melted dirt beneath the Hive.

As her faculties slowly began to return and the understanding that it would not be long before the Wraith drones, milling uncontrolled, because of the commander's mortal pain, would take up pursuit, and that if she were not away from the Hive by then, her escape from the brink of death would be fleet indeed. She also realised, however, that if she were to leave, she might never find that Hive again, and all hope of finding Michael, and thus her son, would be lost, perhaps forever.

A sob of despair began to rise in her chest to match the keening still echoing inside her mind. It was halted by a sudden recall...

_She nodded casually to the man that left the building to which her contact had sent her, acting as though her presence there was perfectly normal. As she came in she glanced around the single room that served as the store, moving around as though she was looking around at the merchant's wares._

_Once the building emptied, toward the nearby fall of evening she approached the remaining occupant and said quietly, "Jephod sent me."_

_The proprietor nodded once and led her without another word through a curtained doorway into a darker, less than sanitary, back room._

_The man nodded to a stool next to a workbench that contained a number of instruments. She almost changed her mind, but necessity is a demon that drives and for the moment it was necessary that she remain unable to be followed. She lifted her hair aside and pulled down the top of her clothing from her shoulder._

_"Are you certain of this. The price does not, of necessity, come cheap, and I have none of the niceties that--"_

_"I am certain," she said. "Remove it."_

_She made fists of her hands as the procedure began, sublimating the cry that was gathering in the back of her throat as the man cut open her skin, after first scanning her with his contraband technology, and dug inside with another metal implement. She could not help but long for the gentle touch that had removed the last sub-space tracking device that had been implanted._

Teyla shivered as the recall faded, another journey, fevered as she was with the aftermath of its removal allowed her the luxury of being able to disable the device by virtue of a special wrapping. Now it was time for the tracking device to work in her favour, and unwrapping it quickly, aware that she was all but out of time, she reached up with a hand toward a venting port above her on the Hive and slipped the tiny device inside.

Her mind screamed alarm at her in the next few moments as she realised, against all the background noise and pain, that the commander had recovered enough to begin sending his drones to try and find her. She had no more time, and scrambling further away from the Wraith, still beneath the Hive, she moved to where she could break from hiding, and find her way to vegetation that would allow her to make her way toward the Stargate.

The moment she broke cover, the firing began.

Pure adrenaline was all that stood before her and recapture, for retribution at the hands of the Wraith commander. She had no choice. She had to make the Gate. She could not allow herself to be recaptured. If she were, it would mean a slow, painful and humiliating death, she was certain of it.

Within minutes her thoughts were proven wrong once more.

The force of something hard and hot slammed into her shoulder and she was spun round, to lose her footing on the loose scree on the side of the rise leading to the Gate. She gave a cry as she fell, and realised as the fall jarred her shoulder, and from the slowly spreading bloodstain on the front of her shirt that she had been shot.

She had no more time for further realisation, the Wraith drone was on her in a breath and she barely had time to roll aside as it slammed its staff weapon down into the space where she had been.

Somehow managing to maintain her wits, she scissored her legs against the drone's, toppling him to roll away down the incline. Ignoring her pain, she turned and scrambled on all fours the rest of the way up the incline toward the DHD. It would not be long before the drone regained its feet and it would be after her again, but far from immediately dialling the Gate, she began to scratch, and then to dig in the dirt at the side of the DHD with a flat rock that she found and was soon rewarded with the unearthing of a scrap of cloth. She hurried to unearth the rest of it.

Hearing the scuffle of a booted foot behind her, Teyla turned and lashed out at what she hoped would be head height for a Wraith drone.

**

Halling had no notion of what it was that had summoned him to the Ring of the Ancestors, but as night fell on the new Athosian homeworld, his steps had been guided that way and he could not help but feel that there was some greater hand in his coming.

It came as little surprise to him when, even as he looked skyward, the sound of the Ring becoming active drew his attention, and his nervousness to new heights.

**

Sheppard's head ached. It seemed to him that no matter what they did, no matter how hard they tried they still remained at least one or two steps behind both the Wraith _and _Michael.

News was coming in of new rounds of culling on outlying worlds that were technically still under the protection of Atlantis, even if Woolsey was reluctant to allow teams off world to assist. Add to that further reported sightings of Michael's people on several key worlds deep within Wraith held territory, and he began to realise with more than a little fear that the conflict was quickly escalating into an all out war between the Wraith and the Hybrids, and that, try as Woolsey might, there was little they could do to avoid being caught in the crossfire, whether or not their teams went off world.

His heart sank, therefore, when – with Warsh's team not due to check in for another eight hours – the city's alarms began to sound, and Chuck's calm voice sounded over the city wide PA.

"Unscheduled off world activation."

Like the others in the Control Room, Sheppard held his breath waiting for the announcement of an IDC.

* * *

A.N. Carson's whispered mantra in this act are adapted from _Go Forward With Courage - _Ponca Chief White Eagle (1800's to 1914)


	2. Act 2

**Stargate Atlantis **

**No Way Back **

**When All Else Seems Lost**

**Act 2**

"Anything?"

After several long minutes of waiting and no longer able to bear the tension, Sheppard turned to watch as Chuck started to shake his head. The Gate Technician stopped himself, and Sheppard saw his eyes widen in disbelief.

"Chuck?" Sheppard asked, leaning over the desk as though he could somehow see past the man.

"It's…" Chuck said slowly, "Teyla's IDC."

"Lower the shield," Sheppard said, and without waiting for Chuck's answer, turned and started hurrying away toward the steps down to the Gate Room.

"But—" Chuck started, but Sheppard called over his objections.

"Just lower the shield!"

He reached the Gate Room floor as the shield disengaged. His heart was pounding. Now, after so long; after Ronon said she was missing, she was coming back to them – coming home.

Teyla stumbled through the event horizon, hands filthy with dirt and even before he'd had time to take in the rest of her appearance, Sheppard noticed the blood stain on the front of her torn shirt, congealing at her shoulder, and he reached for her, meaning to catch her; steady her.

"Teyla—" he started.

Her body collided with his with a force beyond that of one stumbling. In the split second before she wrapped her foot around the back of his ankle Sheppard saw the first of the energy pulses sail across the Gate Room to explode against the steps. The next instant she unbalanced him, both of them falling to the floor as a volley of several shots tore through the space he had previously occupied. In spite of being slightly winded from the fall which had been awkward due to his efforts to keep Teyla from hitting the hard tiles, Sheppard immediately switched their positions, and gallantly attempted to cover her with his own body – to keep her safe.

"Raise the shield! Shut it down!" he called up to Chuck, and then breathing out in partial relief as the Gate disengaged, he looked up at the nearest SO and ordered, "Get a medic."

Teyla pushed at him, starting to get to her feet as soon as he rolled to the side to catch the rest of his breath.

"I do not need a medic," she said urgently, a brittle crack in the tone of her voice. "We must assemble a team – return to the planet."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, coming quickly to his feet and taking the smaller woman by the arms, careful of her injured shoulder, leaned down to talk to her earnestly. "Unless I miss my guess, those were Wraith shooting at you."

"Yes," she told him, drawing a sharp breath, "and we must return. They have landed their Hive, and aboard is a prisoner that _must_ be rescued. Please, John, I need your help."

**

Her frantic heartbeat began to slow, and with its slowing the pain began to register. She tried to ignore it, push it away, focus on John's voice.

"Prisoner?" he asked her, "Teyla what are you talking about? What prisoner?"

"Teyla!"

Ronon's voice came from behind her. News had travelled quickly through the city of her arrival. She turned around quickly as his steps echoed over the Gate Room.

"Ronon," she said softly, but though she came to a stop, the Gate Room did not. It continued to turn before her eyes. Ronon and John blurred, and in blurring danced in and out of each other's space, before the darkness, hovering on the edges of her vision swept in, and the biting weakness that had begun subsumed her, and she knew no more.

**

"Whoa, Teyla," Ronon reached her side, and faster than Sheppard caught the small Athosian woman as she fainted. "What the hell happened to her?"

His voice was sharp, accusatory as he looked at Sheppard. He felt the other man should have been looking out for her needs, not standing in the Gate Room when she was so obviously hurt. Sheppard didn't get the chance to answer the charges Ronon's glare laid before him, as Carson hurried in, his orderlies bringing the gurney behind him.

"I came as quickly as I could," he said as they came to a halt. "Set her down, Son."

"I didn't know any of us had sent for you," Sheppard said, hovering beside Ronon as he gently laid Teyla onto the gurney and then stepped back, biting his nail in worry as Carson began to check her over.

"Chuck radioed," Carson said. He didn't say much more, and Ronon watched as he made a brief examination of Teyla's injured shoulder, carefully easing the fabric of the shirt aside so that he could see the extent of her injury. Finally he announced, "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Then why did she pass out," Ronon demanded, even as he saw Sheppard open his mouth to speak. "I've seen Teyla take worse injuries than this and just keep on fighting."

"I won't know until I get her to the infirmary, Ronon," Carson said, standing and nodding to his orderlies. "Excuse me."

As Carson left, Ronon rounded on Sheppard, but the smaller man held up his hand before he could speak.

"She said she didn't want medics, big guy, she said—"

"Since when have you ever listened to her," Ronon spat, his worry getting the better of him. He wasn't really angry with Sheppard, but with whoever did this to Teyla, and since they were not there, his friend was his only outlet.

"Normally I'd agree with you," Sheppard said, "but she kept going on about some Wraith Hive and its priso—"

"John?"

Ronon frowned as a look of understanding dawned quite suddenly on Sheppard's face. Understanding that was quickly followed by what Ronon interpreted as fascinated horror.

"Oh… crap! She's talking about Michael," Sheppard said breathlessly.

"Michael?" Ronon's frown deepened. "What are you talking about, Michael? She—"

"Come on."

Sheppard's slap in the middle of his chest cut off the tirade building inside of him, and realising that the other man had already turned and was heading in the direction of the infirmary, he hurried to catch up. It didn't take him long.

"She's _seen_ Michael?" he asked.

Sheppard shook his head and said, "She came in hot; saved my ass from a volley of fire from Wraith blasters before we could get the Gate shut down. She was… insistent that we turn around and get back out there; said something about the Hive being landed and that there was a prisoner on board that had to be rescued. I think she was talking about Michael."

"Well if Michael is in Wraith hands he's probably dead by now, and if he's not, shouldn't we leave him to them? It's one less problem our way." Even as he said the words, Ronon realised how cruel they sounded, and heedless of the fact that Michael still had Teyla's son, and that that was why she was trying to get to him…

_The dream continues, sometimes more clearly than others, and today I remember most clearly the day that we captured him for Carson's experiment... The way we fought, the recognition between us... the, (dare I confess it even here), excited fear that ran through me as he had me pinned at the bulkhead, poised on that knife edge between one action and another in those seconds before Ronon took him down; a sensation I felt again some few days later in an almost identical situation._

_How can I deny that I understand him?_

_And there is no denial in the continuance of the dream, only desire… a longing as I see Kanaan's features shift to be his and I reach for him all the more, knowing this… understanding this…and wanting to feel the reality of it, not some distant ghostly touch in a dream…_

Ronon growled as the memory of what he had read in Teyla's journal came to him, unbidden – unwelcome – and when Sheppard looked his way he shook his head.

"I'd agree with you, Ronon," Sheppard said, "If it weren't for the baby. What chance does she have of finding the kid if—?"

"Michael's people are still out there," Ronon argued. "One of them _has_ to know where he is."

"That's not how he operates and you know it," Sheppard said. "Maybe one, a lieutenant or something, but… Mikey plays his cards real close to his chest. He doesn't want anyone to know where the kid is, then no one but him will be able to tell us."

"Us?" Ronon questioned, "So you're thinking of going; finding this Hive. I'm telling you, he's gone. Dead. There ain't no love lost between Michael and the Wraith and they won't keep him alive a moment longer than they have to."

**

It didn't occur to Halling to step away from the Ring of the Ancestors; that it may have been any other than a friend, come to trade or exchange news. Even after the recent experiences; the troubles the remaining Athosians had endured since they were taken from New Athos by Michael's mercenaries, the gentle Athosian preferred to see the good, the hope in what might occur.

The shimmering puddle of light came into being and a lone figure stepped from it, looking first one way and then, spotting Halling, turned his way and came toward him.

"Raefan," Halling stepped forward to greet the man, reaching for his shoulders and lowering his head as the other man did likewise.

"Halling, it is good to see you again after so long," Raefan said. "I received your message and came as soon as I could."

"The one that delivered it?" Halling asked, frowning slightly as he straightened up.

"Have no fear, my friend. Jinto is with my wife, and there he can remain if you wish it," Raefan said with a smile, but Halling shook his head.

"I do not wish to get your family involved in this, Raefan," Halling said, "should there be reprisals, I would never forgive myself if—"

"Halling, you worry too much," Raefan said. "Even if the one you seek _could_ find us—"

"Do not make the mistake of complacency. Others have, and received nothing but trouble from it," Halling interrupted. "All I seek is the information that will give me the means to help a dear friend."

"And right now, all I seek is a hot meal, and a comfortable place to lay my head," Raefan answered, and clapped the Athosian on the shoulder as Halling gestured in the direction that led back to the village. As they walked, he said, "So, tell me everything…"

**

The orderlies stopped the gurney near one of the beds in the infirmary itself, but Carson shook his head.

"No," he said softly, "take her straight into isolation."

"Doctor Beckett?" One of the orderlies looked at him as though the man thought he was out of his mind.

"For her own protection," Carson said, giving the gurney a push himself to start the movement of it, and added under his breath, "mostly from John and Ronon." As Teyla began to let out a soft moan he added, "Quick as you can."

Dismissing the orderlies as soon as they had helped him to lift Teyla onto the isolation wing's bed, Carson turned his attention to the awakening Athosian, murmuring softly as he prepared to clean up the wound on her shoulder.

"Easy, Teyla, it's Carson. You're all right. You're safe."

"Carson?" she murmured, and sounded confused and vague.

"That's right," he said, keeping his pitch low and his voice soft. "You're in the infirmary on Atlantis. You were hurt, but you'll be fine. I'm just going to take a look at this shoulder of yours, all right. Then we'll see if we can figure out if it was anything more that caused the fainting."

"Carson, I am… I am all right," Teyla said, swallowing and trying to sit up. He restrained her gently.

"No, lie back now," he told her, and nodded to Marie as she joined him with the equipment tray.

"I have to get back there," she argued.

"Teyla, listen to me," Carson turned her face so that her eyes met his. "Nothing is so important that you can't allow yourself a moment to catch your breath. I'll get you patched up and back out there as soon as I can, but right now, you're staying put."

Teyla sighed heavily, tears welling in her eyes as she finally gave up fighting him.

"He was there, Carson. I know it was him. It _had_ to have been." She squeezed her eyes shut as Marie began to cut the shirt away.

"Whatever it is, Love, pay it no mind," Carson said gently. "Just take a deep breath and—"

"Doctor Beckett," Marie's soft voice interrupted, but even though he knew she'd tried, the nurse had failed to completely mask the alarm in her tone.

He glanced over, frowning, not sure what to expect, and felt as though someone had slammed him across the middle with a steel bar when he saw the horrifyingly familiar, raw feeding mark on Teyla's chest.

"Dear God, Teyla!" He failed to catch the exclamation before it flew from his mouth and seeing Sheppard and Ronon enter the infirmary from the corner of his eye, Carson turned, meaning to go and secure the door to the isolation wing. Before he could move, Teyla's hand wrapped tightly around his wrist.

"No," she told him.

"Why didn't you _tell_ someone," he hissed.

"They do not need to know," Teyla said fiercely. "No one does."

"Marie, could you give us a minute?" Carson said to his assistant. She left without question, giving Teyla a sympathetic smile as she went, and managing, he noticed, to sidestep Sheppard and Ronon. He turned back to Teyla.

"You can't keep something like this from John; you know that," he said, "and Ronon? He can practically sniff out Wraith involvement in a heartbeat. They're your friends. They care and sooner or later they're gonnae find out anyway."

"It was nothing," she said.

"Teyla, you were _fed_ on."

"A moment only," she said, her voice shaking.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, as he began to reach for swabs and antiseptic with which to clean the wounds.

"It was the commander of the Hive that holds Michael as their prisoner," she said.

"Michael?" Carson's heart constricted and his head snapped up, bringing his eyes to meet with hers. "The Wraith have Michael?"

Teyla reached out to lay a trembling, dirt caked hand against his cheek.

"They have him," she whispered, "and he has my son."

**

_"Michael!"_

_He burned with the touch as he caught her flailing hand and laid it onto the top of his shoulder. She gripped him tightly, completely unaware of everything he was feeling, and made another small, gasping cry in her labour. As she clung to him, he gently felt around the swell of her belly, and finally the contraction began to fade._

_"Good," he said softly as he lifted his hand away, "Your child is correctly positioned."_

_"How do you—?" she asked breathlessly. Her grasp tightened on his shoulder as he picked her up; moved her to be more comfortable. He caught his own answering hiss when she laid her head against his shoulder beside her hand as he moved her, "Michael, I can't…"_

_-Teyla-_

_"This is as it must be," he said softly and carefully set her down; helped her to lie back against the supportive pillows until, needing to distance himself a little, he slid his hand along her arm, and lifted her fingers away from his shoulder. Yet, for a short time he held her hand in his._

_"Why—?" she clung to him, but another pain gripped her, stealing the rest of the question from her lips._

_"Because I need him," he said, apologetic as he freed himself from her grasp. "What must be done cannot be done without him."_

_Tears came to her eyes and she looked away until he reached to cup the side of her face in his hand, to make her look at him again. "I will not harm him. Why can't you just accept that?"_

_"Because—" she started, but another pain stole her breath and what anger he felt from her evaporated under the weight of it. She reached for him again, and gasped, "Michael, please…!"_

_He pushed aside her hands as she pleaded with him and said, "We must do this, and then you must rest… trust me…" For barely a heartbeat he caught one of her flailing hands, and laid it, beneath his own, against his chest._

_-trust-_

…_why…?_

_"Tell me why?" She voiced the thought that gripped her mind._

_The hard edge in his eyes softened and for a moment myriad thoughts flew among the emotion in his mind as he looked into her eyes. His lips shaped her name._

_"Yes… please, Michael!"_

_Unable to voice his deepest need, his most intimate desire, he sighed and let go of the hand he held against his chest, his jaw tightening just a little as he looked at her face; moving again to put distance between them, but she halted him with the feather of a touch on his arm._

_"Michael, why are you doing this…?" _

_His blood sang, his heart ceased beating and it was all he could do for a moment to look at it before he began to speak. "All these worlds filled with people, busying themselves with their pathetic lives. They come and they go, they live and they die and the galaxy is no better for it. But your son – your son will be an instrument of change."_

_"I'm afraid," she said and gripped his arm suddenly with the onset of another contraction._

_"Will you allow me to help you?" he asked gently._

_"Yes," she gasped. "Please, Michael, I—"_

_"For a brief period, I was able to access Atlantis' medical database," he told her softly. It was not exactly a lie. Seeing into Carson's mind, and then with the consultation of his clone, he felt confident in his abilities to aid her. He let go of her hand, laying it gently onto her belly. She frowned at him and he could see the question in her mind, but tipping his head to the side, he caught her eyes with his in a query of his own. His hand rested against her thigh and his eyes flicked downward before returning to meet hers. Seeking permission…_

_-the child inside of you is ready to be born-_

_She closed her eyes in a long, slow blink, and nodded. He watched as she took her lip between her teeth. He was still regarding her softly when she opened them again._

_"How?" she asked as he began to move. He blinked at her – incomprehension. "The Atlantis database."_

_Still he did not answer. He would not lie to her and did not wish for her to know, as yet, about the clone. As his touch moved against the warmth of her body she whimpered and he froze._

_"Teyla?" he called softly._

_"It is all right," she said, shaking her head, refusing to open her eyes. "Just tell me how."_

_As he completed his examination, he told her, "It does not matter how. What is important is that I now understand the process of human birth." In a moment of tenderness he covered her once more drawing up a soft blanket over her. "I will not let anything happen to you, Teyla. You or the child."_

_"I know," she whispered._

_He paused in moving at her whispered admission, emotional uncertainty strangling him. How long would it last, this temporary truce, this refusal of the denial in which she so often wrapped herself? He forced himself to focus instead on preparing for the child's coming, pouring water into the bowl, and removing the harsh leather garment that served as his protection, to leave himself in the soft linen of the shirt beneath. As he returned to her side, he saw she shook with unvoiced tears and that her face was wet with them._

_"What is this?" he asked as he sat beside her, and frowned in concern as her tears came harder as she looked on him. "Why do you weep?"_

_"I… I feel so alone," she sobbed._

_Empathy flared and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then he sighed._

_"I understand," he said softly._

_She reached for him, but he caught her hand and, while he held it, gently in his own, he pressed a restraining touch with the other against her shoulder. "You need to rest as much as you can through these coming contractions. Your body still needs a little more time to adjust before you will be ready to bring the child to birth. I will remain here."_

_-you are safe… rest- -safe…rest- -rest-_

Michael moaned as he came to consciousness once more, burning with the almost physical memory of Teyla's presence, of those moments shared, pivotal moments in which the truth between them was laid bare as each made admissions before the other. Perhaps not explicit, remaining unspoken, but admissions none the less, and between the two of them there had so often been little need to speak.

"Who was she?" The woman – Isla's gentle voice and her touch grounded him, and brought him closer to the pain of loss. He curled toward the touch, unable to stop the all-too-human tears. His hands fisted beside his face, heedless of the sharp sting of his own claws against his palms.

"She… was…" he started, but the pain gathered again in his heart, constricting his chest around a sob that felt suddenly like a boulder lodged inside of him. Instead he demanded, "Help me."

He looked up into Isla's confused frown.

"What would you do?" she asked him.

"Sit," he gasped.

"But your wound—" she started, stopping only when he weakly grasped the neckline of her dress.

"Help… me to sit," he rasped again.

More aware than when last she had touched him, as her arms closed around him, he felt his uncontrolled mind's blistering awareness of her recombinant DNA. He growled. His breathing quickened as his head began to spin.

"Let go," he barely managed to form the words.

"You will fall," she warned.

"No," he growled, trying to push away from her. It was too close, too alike, and he was drowning in it. She let go of him, and he barely managed to brace himself on the most uninjured of his arms, stifling the cry that rose inside of him.

"Please," she reached for him again, "Let me _help_ you."

"Do not… do not touch me," he told her, gasping.

"My word against it," she told him, and approaching carefully wrapped the blanket that had been covering him around his shoulders before moving to better support him. He leaned against her, unable to do otherwise, and even with the barrier between them he fought to regain control.

"What are you trying to do?" she asked.

"It…is better," he answered breathlessly, "that you… do not know."

"Yet you ask for my help," she said, "and I am bound by my word to my Commander that I will."

Michael sighed, finally settled enough to be able to breathe.

"I must… end this," he said. He saw and felt her panic at his words, and shook his head, setting the room to dancing around him. "I must… summon my Hive… my… people. I—"

"How?" she asked, and the barely concealed horror at the thought was mitigated by her curiosity.

"It does not matter," he told her, "I have… what I came here to… achieve."

As he spoke, he reached behind the back of his neck; feeling for a pressure point he knew existed, wherein he had implanted the device he now sought to activate. Enough was enough. He did not need to suffer any more; could not stand to, and when he was himself once again… nothing would prevent his retribution upon all those that had wronged him.

**

The not-so-distant thunder rattled the windows of the cafeteria, and stirring his tea, Carson stared into the blue-black night, silvered as it was by lightning rimmed clouds.

_"You underestimate your own value, Doctor…"_

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath as the voice of his creator echoed in his head… ironic since the memory was from before his time… was the _real_ Carson's memory, taken from his mind as all the others were taken, even as he had fought to keep control.

"But then," he said to himself, barely above a whisper. "I… he… I created him in the first place and now…"

_"The Wraith have Michael?"_

_"They have him… and he has my son."_

Lightning flashed, striking the water nearby and Carson jumped, blinking as hot tea splashed against his hand… the heat of it becoming something other entirely…

_"What the __**hell**__ do you think you're trying to do?" Carson reached to push the slide out of Michael's reach, but the hybrid was faster and clamped a relentless touch around his hand, pinning it to the workbench._

_"Have a care, Doctor," Michael's voice rumbled slightly, "lest you overreach yourself."_

_-overreach yourself- -yourself- -yourself-_

_"Michael, the introduction of that kind of genetic material into such a sensitive system is going to lead to widespread rejection and—"_

_"My DNA was masked by splicing it within his own hybrid cells. There was little to no rejection and," he tilted his head and Carson saw curiosity within his eyes, "his complete hybridisation is now achieved so—"_

_"You've _done_ this already?"_

_"And with success, Doctor Beckett," Michael said and finally let go of his hand. Carson straightened and backed away. "You disappoint me. To have taken so long to decipher my data…"_

_"Success?" he looked into Michael's face, trying to gauge just what the hybrid was talking about. Surely he didn't mean that some poor woman among the Athosian survivors had struggled through what must have been an impossibly difficult—_

_"In fact, I shall need your knowledge of the human birthing process."_

_Carson reeled, backing up another step, thinking of the mother, of her suffering, of everything it could mean. "Who is she? Where is she? She's going to need medical attention. She—"_

_"Is with her friends, Doctor, but have no fear, she will be joining us soon and then… you may attend her," Michael said and setting down the test tube he was still holding, began to advance toward Carson._

_"Who—" he began, but even as the question formed, he saw the answer in Michael's eyes and whispered, devastated, "Teyla."_

_"Yes," Michael answered. "Teyla carries the child and you will teach me what I need to know to ensure that both of them are safe."_

Carson sighed. The child… always _the_ child, never _my_ child… though to all intent and purpose the boy may as well have been Michael's. He couldn't help but wonder if Teyla knew… if he should tell her what he knew; if he could trust himself to do what was ethically right, what was humanely just.

With another sigh he picked up a napkin to clear up the mess he'd made, wiping up the back of his hand and the spilled tea from the top of the table.

"If only everything were so easy," he said softly.

"Carson?"

He looked up at the sound of McKay's voice, tried to smile but couldn't muster the energy or even the where-with-all to do so.

"It's late, Rodney. Shouldn't you be in bed?" he said by way of greeting.

"Couldn't sleep," McKay answered, and then gesturing to the seat opposite, asked, "May I?"

"Aye," Carson answered, "Go ahead."

"You know," McKay said as he sat down, "I could say the same thing of you."

"Hmm?"

"That you should be sleeping too," McKay said.

"Oh, aye," Carson nodded and picked up the tea cup to take a sip. "Just taking some tea before heading off to bed."

"You've been with Teyla?" Rodney said.

"She'll be fine," Carson said tiredly. "You'll see her in the morning. I'll likely be discharging her then."

"Really?" McKay sounded surprised as he tucked into his midnight snack, and Carson shook his head, keeping the comments about the state of his friend's arteries to himself. McKay went on heedless of his concerns. "That surprises me, because… didn't Sheppard say something about Wraith?"

"You're fishing, Rodney," Carson said with a sigh, "and you know me better than that."

"Right, yeah. Sorry, just… She's been through a lot, you know? What with Michael and the baby and all," McKay said. "She left you know?"

"I know," he answered softly. "She told me. I think there's a lot that people don't understand."

"Oh?" McKay asked, but Carson shook his head again, refusing to be drawn further.

"What about you?" he asked instead. "From what I hear, you've been quite busy yourself."

"I'm fine, Carson," McKay answered, "You know me…"

He trailed off then, and Carson knew there were things that he wasn't saying. Whatever else Rodney was to him, he was a friend, so Carson couldn't help but prompt him, "But?"

McKay sighed, and put down his fork as he stopped eating, and Carson knew then that it was serious.

"I'm worried. About Jen," McKay said after a minute.

"Rodney, you know I can't—"

McKay cut him off, holding up a hand as he took a sip of the coffee from his tray. When he had swallowed, he said, "I'm not asking you to tell me anything, Carson, I just want you to listen. If I'm being stupid then fine, frankly, I'll be glad, but I'm going crazy right now because I can't stop worrying about it and just… I've gotta tell someone. I can't tell Sheppard because whether or not I'm right or wrong won't matter, he'll just go… tearing off after Todd and likely end up getting himself killed. Ronon too, but—"

"All right," Carson said and picked up his tea cup. "Go on."

"I told you before that I thought that Todd might have either fed on Jennifer or forced himself on her, but… I think it's more complicated than that," he said.

"How so?" Carson asked around a sip of cooling tea.

"Well, you know?" McKay shifted in his seat and Carson thought he looked slightly constipated as he said, "that thing the Wraith can do, the way they can… mess with your mind…?"

He nodded, as noncommittally as he could, trying hard not to remember the touch of Michael's mind inside his own, and hoping his expression would encourage McKay to keep talking.

"I worry that's what he did to Jen, that he somehow… manipulated her, I mean… she was so… goddamn… defensive whenever I mentioned anything to do with Todd. It's like… like she was…"

"Trying to keep her private life private?"

"Carson!" McKay's raised voice brought more than a few stares their way. He looked around before leaning over the table to hiss at Carson, "You can't possibly condone that, you—"

"What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter what you or I think," Carson said firmly. "What matters is what _Jennifer_ thinks, how _she_ perceives it. The only time it becomes my business to make a judgement is when it starts to involve medical issues."

"But that's just it," McKay said, his face creasing from indignation to worry. "Look at what's just happened. What if it does, Carson?"

**

_"Tell me, Doctor Keller… Jennifer…"_

She moaned as the rumble of thunder roused her enough to be lucid, but not enough to break the dream. Her body burned with the memory of his voice – a low murmur that rumbled through her and settled low in her belly, sending a swirling rush of aftershocks along her limbs.

_The test tube in her hand rattled against the stand in answer. "Why is it that you… Humans feel the need to name everything? Does it give you mastery of them? Ownership…?"_

_"Todd, what are you—" she forced the words, breathlessly, from her suddenly constricted throat and took a step closer to the workbench to put some distance between them, but he followed and ran his hand, fingertips leading down along the length of her arm, to cover her hand with his own and steady the test tube as her trembling increased, her breathing shuddering in time._

_"I… we…" She stammered, trying to move sideways away from between the bench and Todd, but his hand came around her to rest on the bench, cutting off her retreat. She breathed, "Todd…"_

_He only moved closer, the solid length of his body pressed against hers, behind her, the unyielding workbench in front. The press of his hand lowered the test tube she was clutching to the stand, and then scraped across the backs of her fingers, while he leaned closer still, his breath travelling over her already enlivened skin._

"_Why?" she asked him, her voice barely a whisper._

"_I thought we had been through that," he said, but she shook her head, cutting him off._

_"Let me go!"_

_"Where would you go?" he purred, and raised a hand to her neck. At the light scrape of metal against her skin as he swept her hair to the side her breathing quickened and she felt her heart rate increase._

_In sudden panic she ducked under his arm and all but ran for the laboratory door, his voice, though quiet, rang out in triple tones across the room._

"_Go," he said, "if that is what you want. I will not stop you. But neither can I save you. If you leave here, I cannot protect you any more."_

_"Bastard!" she cried, slamming her hand against the closed doorway, sobbing as she fumbled with the controls to find the lock._

_"Was it truly so hateful for you?" his voice came from closer, and she turned, pressing back against the door as he approached, arms spread to either side, palms toward her in appeal. "We are not so different… Jennifer…"_

_She moaned, remembering the feel of his teeth at her shoulder, the sharpness that had nipped at her through the fabric of her shirt and her whole body shook as he crossed the rest of the distance between them._

_She had known he was tall but now, for the first time she truly noticed __**how**__ tall he was; how massive he seemed. She felt dwarfed before him, a sapling to his oak. She pressed her trembling, suddenly cold hands against his chest, a vain attempt to hold him back. He covered them briefly with one of his own before he raised her chin on the side of his index finger and leaned down to plunder a kiss from her lips._

_Vaguely she registered the organic rasp of the door behind her sliding open, her hands fisting against his chest as she responded to the kiss, filling herself with the cinnamon spice of his mouth the moment before he pulled away._

_"Come," he said simply, and turned and walked toward the door that led to her quarters._

_Behind her the open door led to freedom, escape from this wanton madness, and yet…she felt caught between choices that were equally as bleak. Blinded by tears of self loathing, and desperate for relief from the needful sensations spiralling through her, she crossed the room to follow Todd through the door into insanity, all but falling into his waiting arms, and the burning in his red rimmed eyes and—_

…_He is breathless – his entire body fire. Around him the movement of the windblown leave, their whispering voice, is maddening. He turns first one way then another; sniffs the air and drops into a crouch that is painful. A sound catches his attention and he sniffs again, before he pushes off from an aching hand to run amid the blurring green of trees that pass his vision so fast he can make out nothing save the prey on which he closes; reaches for and bears to the ground… roaring…_

—_growling, he pushed her against the wall, his attention sudden and aggressive… possessive. She gasped at the press of his lips against her own as his possession took shape in a searing kiss, and shook against him as he deepened the kiss, capturing her lips with his teeth and then pressing the caress of his tongue against her own until she began to lose herself in it; in the feelings that were stirring in spite of her reticence; in Todd… until passion overtook his restraint and he wrapped her more tightly in his arms, deepening the kiss still further._

_Panic burst through her from the tingling in her belly and she began to push against him, struggling with him to be free of his arms, of the kiss, needing to breathe and almost suffocating._

_He let go of her and she stumbled away as the kiss broke, snatching breaths from the air that seemed too hot, too full of conflicting emotions._

_"Fight me, Jennifer," he said breathlessly, "but you cannot fight yourself."_

_He reached for her then, pulling her against him once more, lifting her against his body, and ran his hands over all of her. She was left burning in the wake of his touch until he lay her down atop wide bed, and loomed over her, tearing aside clothing even as she reached to unfasten his._

_She let out a long, slow moan at the sensations that his touches sent spiralling through her and a moment later a sharp cry, as his teeth pierced the skin, drawing beads of blood to further enflame her with his domineering passions. His hands tugged at clasp of her pants and followed the parting fabric to plunder the soft heat he found at her centre._

_At the press of his touch against her, gliding in the wetness she had made of her desires for him, Keller gave a breathy call of his name and turned her head to catch the side of his neck in the press of her teeth._

_He growled, pressing his possessiveness deep inside her. Her muscles fought against the touch, but it was such sweet sensation that pushed inside of her, deeper than his reach, kindling an ache so hot it consumed her and she bucked against his hand, until as suddenly as it had taken her, she was released, already dizzied from the spiralling want of him._

_She lay breathless… helpless with need as he tugged at what remained of her clothing and, freed at last, she shivered as he leaned down to take in the scent of her, breathing deeply over her as his teeth nipped at the soft flesh of her belly and lower still, pushing at her thighs with armoured fingers that scratched against her tender flesh as he encouraged her to open to him… to his breath… to the sharpness of his teeth that nipped and drove the maddening, aching want deeper still within the spiral of sensation he pushed against her mind._

_His biting kissing climbed her body and she felt his scalding heat against her sex as he held for barely a moment until his lips took hers again, and his tongue filled her awareness with the musky essences she tasted on him as he surged inside of her._

_His ridged length filled her and flared inside, driving deep pain to bite against the pleasure as he moved, anchored and undulating over her until their desperate rutting became pure sensation, and driven by his snarling cry, and the rush of his seed to fill her, she followed, shattering beneath him._

Jennifer cried out, swept into wakefulness by the sudden, almost painful climax that left her sweating… weak and trembling on the edge of delirium - wooded visions that had no place in the dream confusing and terrifying her.

The cry became a sob, and that became a torrent until she had no choice but to throw herself from her sweat soaked bed, and stumble drunkenly to the bathroom, barely making it in time to void what was left in her stomach.

She didn't have the strength to stand, nor was her stomach settled enough that she thought it wise. Instead she rested her head on her arms across the top of the toilet basin, and finally gave voice to the emotional agony the dream had kindled in her, weeping hard until the muscles in her belly ached from it.

**

The Hive Second walked the line of worshippers slowly, taking in the sight of each one, keeping his breathing slow and controlled to try and stave off his anger, but it wasn't working.

"One of you will tell me," he said, his voice deep and just on the edge of a growl. "You will tell me or I will be forced to exact reprisal."

Many long moments passed and still not one of them spoke. At the end of the line he turned suddenly and reached for the nearest of the worshippers. It was a young woman, and under normal circumstances he would not have dreamed of making such a move against one such, but their collective obstinacy pushed him beyond the limits of his patience, which in the present climate of the Hive was already stretched beyond belief. Easily turning her in his arms, he held her struggling against his chest, his hand clamped around her throat, his feeding hand hovering just inches from her sternum.

"Speak!"

_{speak} {speak} {speak}_

He pushed against every mind present – relentless – holding back neither fear nor pain. Showing each and every one of them exactly what would happen to the one in his arms if the truth was not given to him at once.

"Please, Lord, no!" one of the other worshippers, a man stepped toward him, reaching for the woman. The Hive Second lashed out at the man for his audacity, barely making contact, but sending the man sailing across the space to land heavily at the base of the nearby bulkhead. The Second's sensitive ears did not miss the sharp crack that split the air as the man landed.

"Kaidon!" the woman in his arms screamed and began to struggle against his hold. In vain, but still she fought.

"Tell me!" the Hive Second roared at them.

"It was me."

The coldly calculating voice came from behind him, and rather than release the struggling woman at the sound of it, he tightened his grip, as he turned to face the speaker.

The Queen's handmaiden – concubine to the Hive Commander – stood in the doorway, staring up at him in open challenge. Not the least bit demure or respectful, her manner rankled like a bad smell among bright orchards.

So the Hive Commander realised the threat and sought to use the girl against him, to lessen his standing, and the opinion of the others. What a fool he was.

_{your master has sorely mistaken me if he thinks to use this against me, girl}_

"Bring her!" he said to the drones, aloud, for the benefit of the others.

"Wait!" the handmaiden said, taking a step back as the drones advanced on her. "You can't— I didn't— you—"

She broke off as the Wraith drones' hands closed on her arms, and into the silence she left, the Hive Second said, "As well as providing support for the Commander of a Hive, the Second's duties include the overseeing, and discipline of all worshippers. If you think your temporary position as the Queen's handmaiden, or the fleeting relief you provide in servicing the Commander provides you with immunity then you _also_ are sorely mistaken."

He nodded to the drones, ordering them to take her to the Preservation Chamber. Not until they had left, and her frightened chattering had faded to nothing along the corridors did he release the woman from his grasp. She flew at once to the one he surmised was her mate.

"A word of advice," he told the remaining worshippers. "That one may think she possesses power, but consider – those that climb the highest have the furthest to fall, and more often than not, take others with them as they descend."

He stood and watched as one of the other men crossed to where the woman lay weeping with her head on her mate's chest. The man still had not moved since being thrown, and the Hive Second worried that perhaps the crack had been the snapping of his all too fragile Human neck.

"He lives?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, my Lord," the answer came at once, as the second man took the weeping woman by the shoulders and brought her to her feet. "I believe there are bones broken in his shoulder, but nothing that will not mend."

The Hive Second walked closer to the woman, and obediently the man supporting her backed away, inclining his body in a slight bow. The woman swayed slightly, and he caught her arm, supporting her easily with his greater strength, and forgiving that, unthinkingly she braced herself against his chest.

He breathed in deeply, leaning down to her, and cupped her chin in his hand to bring her eyes to his. As his mind met hers, he sensed the life, barely begun inside her.

"Bring him to me when he wakes," he hissed against her cheek, and then growling, released her and spun away, leaving to deal with the errant handmaiden.

**

More convinced now than ever that someone had been at the files on the infirmary computer, Carson set about laboriously going through the directory, one file and file fragment at a time. It was something he'd learned during his time with Michael – not that he was particularly good at it, but calling in Rodney or Zelenka would cause more alarm than he was prepared to deal with, so he did it himself.

He had most of the directory reconstructed when the light touch fell on his shoulder, making him jump.

"Carson," her voice was soft, and sounded just a little lost. He turned to her, smiling.

"Teyla," he took her hand and patted it softly, "What's the matter, Love? Can't sleep?"

"No, I," she tilted her head as she always did when something was on her mind, "find myself unable to become still enough to allow sleep to find me."

"I know the feeling," he told her, and reached for another stool so that she could at least sit. In truth he was glad of the company. She thanked him softly.

"It is broken?" she asked, gesturing to the computer.

"It's been giving me some trouble, aye," he said.

"It is one of the things that I never came to understand about Atlantis," Teyla told him, and as he raised his eyebrow in query, she explained, "The reliance of everyone here on technology that is… less than reliable."

Carson chuckled. "It makes us feel powerful," he teased, "being able to swear about a computer – makes a man feel… manly."

Teyla chuckled softly, but it did not last long and ended with a sigh. He gave her an inviting smile, and after a moment she began to speak.

"I can only assume that someone has told you why I left Atlantis," she said softly.

"The gist of it, lass, aye," Carson said. "No one gave me the full details though. As I understand it, they brought you back from where Michael left you and started treating you like some kind of…"

He struggled to find the right word, but stopped when Teyla shook her head.

"It was greater than that. When Michael returned me to Atlantis, believing I would be safer here than at his side because of the ferocity of the Wraith aggression against him, people here whom I thought my friends failed to believe that what I was telling them was true. Their mistrust became untenable. Their treatment was… uncalled for at best and an insult to my right to privacy at its worse level. During that time, Carson, I truly came to understand his plight."

"Michael's?" he queried softly, knowing somehow that between the two of them there would be no deception, no hiding sophistry, just the naked, honest truth.

"Yes," she said, and he sighed, looking down.

"We treated him abominably, Teyla," he said and heard in his own voice the sorrow that gripped him, the sorrow and the shame.

"Then, Carson, why?" she said, her voice a fervent hissed question and she reached out to grasp him by the wrist. "I have always known you to be a good and honourable man; your grasp on the justice of a situation strong. What… possessed you—?"

"If I had a penny for every time I've asked myself that question, I'd be a rich man by now," he said. "And, Teyla, I know you objected at the time, and that you pretty much got… cornered into being a part of it, but—"

"But still I participated, yes," she said, not loosening her grasp on his wrist, "and every moment that has passed, every meeting between us—"

"You know," Carson started, his soft voice cutting her off. He sighed then, not sure how to go on. "Your understanding, your empathy, your… compassion… it means a lot to him."

Teyla shook her head. "Not enough," she said and there was no mistaking the hurt and anger in her voice, but he knew her well enough to hear that there was more beneath it, and looked at her softly, but challenging none-the-less, until she said, her voice full of anxiousness and emotion, "He has my child, Carson, my _son_. He took my people, made them into… into _things_ to do his bidding; he— Hundreds of thousands of people are sick and _dying_ because of what he has done."

Her voice became more shrill, more desolate until tears fell from her eyes, to match each word. Carson got up from his stool and walked to stand behind her, wrapping his arms gently around her shoulders and rested his chin against the top of her head, to say softly, "And you're sitting here thinking: how could I love such a monster?"

He didn't try to stop her when she pulled away from him, got to her feet and spun around to face him, all but snarling in his face, "No!" as she backed away, staring at him, and breathing hard.

"You and I both know there's more to it than that," he said, and poured a glass of water, holding it out to her.

She slapped it away, the water spilling over the two of them like some stain of complicity and the glass, hitting the floor of the lab hard, shattered.

"_We_ did this," she cried. "We _drove_ him to this."

"And there it is," Carson said, tears coming to his own eyes, "The truth that only you and I will ever dare to voice; to accept and understand. The Athosians… and all those hundreds of thousands of people infected with the Hoffan protein… the millions that will die in the war to come… their blood is on our hands. Mine as the geneticist that perfected the Hoffan drug and the architect of the retrovirus that created Michael, and on yours for bringing me the Wraith he used to be."

**

Lightning split the sky, and he answered the atmospheric cry of pain with a startled whimper of his own that blossomed like the roll of thunder that assaulted the City of the Ancients.

Sleep was no shield against the terror of his knowing that now she was back, now Teyla had returned, the choice was upon him. Should he say nothing, and trust in the military and the might of Atlantis with her cloak and her shields to keep the one that haunted his dreams; that possessed that one, hidden corner of his mind from taking her price from him for his betrayal… or should he surrender to the betrayal her geas demanded of him?

Lightning flashed again and even as he gasped, and woke sweating into the lingering silver in his room, he still saw her face looming over him. Her narrow braids were like the strands of a web around him and as he fought to catch his breath, the weight in his chest became the press of her hand as she fed.

**

She paced across the Control Room, looking at each of them in turn, trying to gauge their faces; judge their reactions. She could see lingering sympathy in Sheppard's eyes, as in McKay's. Ronon troubled her.

There was something new, even more guarded in his expression, almost hostile. She knew that Ronon had always openly displayed his dislike of Michael, as much as any Wraith, but felt, somehow, that part of his current feeling was aimed at her.

As if he sensed her examination of him Ronon crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk asking "What do you want me to say, Teyla? You want me to lie to you? Tell you, 'sure, I think it's a great idea,' when I don't? You want me to be honest? If the Wraith have him, he's already dead."

"I know that he is not," Teyla said, her voice low, fighting hard to banish the pain that flared in her at Ronon's words.

"Oh, what, because of that… that connection the two of you share?" Ronon snapped, tapping his head and standing up to his full height.

Teyla, too, drew herself up, stinging with added hurt at Ronon's antagonistic attitude, ready to retort and demand an explanation for his manner when Sheppard stepped between them.

"Hey," he looked up at Ronon with a frown, and sounding as puzzled as Teyla felt beneath the hurt, said, "Take it easy, big guy."

He turned to her then, and said quietly, "Look, Teyla—"

"No, John, _you_ look," she tilted her head, and looked again at each of them. "I returned to Atlantis because I believed that I could ask my _friends_ for help; that regardless of anything else they would realise—"

"Teyla," she looked over at McKay as he laid a hand against her arm. "I don't think there's even one of us who doesn't appreciate the need to get to Michael so that you can find out where he's holding your son—"

Sheppard nodded then, and finished McKay's sentence. "—but the truth is, the minute you set foot in Atlantis, it was already too late. They will have gone, Teyla, and one Hive among the number flying around out there right now?"

"We have no way of finding them," McKay explained, "of isolating _that_ Hive over the others. You see, in the last few months the Wraith have found a way to shield their bio-signature, which was how we were tracking them before – almost like… somehow they knew that was what we were doing and took counter measures to—"

"McKay," Sheppard interrupted.

"Yeah, right, sorry. The point is, we'd never find them," he said.

"Yes," Teyla argued. "You would find _them_ by looking for _me_. Some time ago I removed the subspace tracking device you had implanted in me after Michael returned me to Atlantis. Before I escaped from the Wraith commander, I planted it on that Hive."

She looked expectantly at Rodney, who, at Sheppard's nod, moved to the computer at the side of the Control Room. Teyla bit her lip, uncertain, suddenly afraid that the device would fail and that her only hope of finding Michael would be lost through her own weakness. When Sheppard's hand hooked her elbow and he started to draw her aside, she jumped.

"Teyla, listen," he said, leaning close to her to speak confidentially. "It's not as though we don't _want_ to help. I know how important this is to you, and _why_, but you have to understand, it's a pretty big ask."

"I understand that, John. I do," she answered and reached out to squeeze his hand as she continued, "and I would not have come to ask for help if there were any other way, but after months of searching and following countless trails, I have tried alone and it did not go well."

"But you gotta face the very real possibility that Ronon's right, Teyla," Sheppard said. "With what Michael's done to the Wraith…"

_His moan became a silent cry as she moved him and even in the half-light she could see the cuts and scrapes, the bruises to his face, the blood stains on his shirt._

_"Michael," she gasped and fell to her knees beside him._

_"Teyla," he barely whispered, "please…"_

_He was trembling, though whether from the cold or from his pain she could not be sure. Suddenly trembling herself, she reached out and quickly grabbed a blanket from the bed, still unmade, nearby. She threw it over him and, as gently as she could, drew his head to rest in her lap._

_He gave another small cry at the movement and the twisting in her belly brought tears to her eyes. Almost tenderly she began to run her fingers through his hair – little enough comfort, but it was all she could give._

_"Who has done this?" she asked, her voice shaking._

"…any one of them wouldn't hesitate…"

_Michael closed his eyes._

_"Give me solace, Teyla," he appealed in the rush of a whisper, "And if nothing else, do not look unkindly on _all_ of my deeds. Remember that above all else, I would have given you my life, if you had asked it."_

_"Michael?" She frowned, a dreadful ache beginning in the middle of her chest._

"…to kill him as soon as look at him…"

_-forgive me, Teyla- -forgive me- -forgi…-_

"…They've got no reason to want him alive."

_Fire and ice rippled along mental pathways long forgotten, long denied and her efforts became fruitless. The maelstrom did not ease. Mixed physical agony and the blackness of an emotional distress so deep, so strong that it was almost a primal cry ripped through every atom of compassion that made her, and an answering shattered sob burst the poorly held dam._

"Teyla?"

She blinked and shook her head. "You must believe me, John, when I tell you that I understand what you are saying, but you must also accept that everything that I know leads me to believe otherwise. None of us can understand the fickle nature of the Wraith, particularly not their queens, and all the information I have received points to this Hive, whose prisoner further upsets the balance of their queen. Does that not sound like Michael to you? When I was with Michael and his ship was attacked, there was a queen that—"

"All right," Sheppard interrupted. "Supposing you're right – supposing it is him. What then? Assuming we could actually get him _off_ a fully armed and occupied Wraith Hive ship, and one of those remaining with a Queen, and bring him back to Atlantis. What are you. Going. To do?"

Teyla shifted uncomfortably, her conversation with Carson still so fresh in her mind that she ached from it.

"There is only one thing that I can, in all conscience, do, John," she said softly.

"And what's that?" he asked, folding his arms and stepping away.

_Love him_.

She closed her eyes, and sighed, pushing the words away with the flickering coal of her anger. Opening her eyes again, she fixed Sheppard with as steady a gaze as she could muster.

"If Michael is returned safely to Atlantis," she said, "as a leader of a people of the Pegasus galaxy, I must demand that he be granted a fair trial according to your articles of war—"

"Teyla—" Sheppard started, and she could hear the warning tone in his voice, but still she continued.

"—No, John," she said and laid her hand on his chest, above the cross of his arms, "It is the only course of action that does not prove our behaviour worse than that which we condemn."

**

The rattle of the bones weighting the braids in her hair announced the Queen even before she set foot on the bridge, and as such every commander and sub-commander present turned in unison and made obeisance before her.

Imperiously she waved her hand, and flicked at them all with the touch of acknowledgement along their mental pathways. As one they returned to their duties.

The Hive Second did not miss that the three women that attended, nervously at her back, did not include the Hive Commander's concubine, and could not help but feel relief at that fact. He guarded his emotions carefully.

_=attend me in my chambers=_

_{my Queen}_

The Hive Second mentally summoned a sub-commander to take his place at the console, and with another briefly inclination of his upper torso; an indication of his respect mixed with a demonstration of his strength, turned and left the bridge. He could feel the Hive Commander's eyes burning into the back of his head as his swift steps carried him away.

Sooner or later their subtle antagonism was going to progress to a more overt display, and while that prospect did not exactly trouble the Hive Second his purpose was, as yet, better served without the greater burden of command of the Hive. If it came to blows between them, however, then he would, as was demanded of him, show little mercy for the Hive Commander's weakness; his incompetence.

He turned his mind then to the Queen's summons, trying to work out what it was she could want with him. He growled softly. Sooner or later, too, someone would have to take the decisive action to curb her Zenith before the Hive tore itself apart. It was another signal of the Hive Commander's incompetence as both commander and Queen's Consort that he had not already done so.

Only one concern remained within him, that perhaps, in spite of the measures he had taken to ensure that his involvement remained unknown, the Queen had discovered the efforts he made to ensure the survival of her former scientist.

He paused in his progress toward the Queen's Chamber as he contemplated the possibility. If such were the case, he would have no choice but to take a much more drastic course of action to ensure adherence to his Matron's orders.

_::they have spawned and now have Hives of their own.::_

_At the unvoiced pressure of her mind guiding him to rise, to support her, and warmed by her presence, her closeness, her trust; as her hand clasped over his forearm and she leaned against him as they moved, he felt her sudden rush of concern for those of her progeny whose existence and whose lines existed on the satellite worlds of the one on which he stood._

_"Something is wrong, My Queen?"_

_::Go to them… guide them... __**be**__ with them…::_

**

Knowing that Teyla was in the city, it felt wrong to Sheppard that they should be sitting around the conference table without her. He understood her request, and a part of him agreed that it was the right thing to do; the only way she'd ever see her son again, but the prospect of going against a Wraith Hive to get to him did little to bolster his confidence.

That they had made assaults against Wraith Hives before didn't enter into the consideration, what twisted in his gut – what really unnerved him – was the sure and certain knowledge that, if Teyla's Intel bore fruit then _this_ was the Hive that had caught and still held Michael – perhaps the most dangerous individual in the history of the Pegasus galaxy, and _that_ was a feat that was in no way to be overlooked.

And if her Intel was wrong… well that didn't bear thinking of either.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Woolsey's voice broke in on his private thoughts and he realised that he had entirely missed the specifics of the discussion.

"Crap," he said under his breath, and then, giving an apologetic look, said, "Sorry, I just… I worry."

"What about specifically?" Woolsey asked. "I was asking for your first impressions after all."

"Right," Sheppard said, drawing out the word.

"And presumably, since you worry, you disagree with Ronon's assessment of the situation – that the Wraith would already have executed Michael?"

Sheppard sighed. "Not necessarily, though I admit it's a distinct possibility," he said.

"Possibility?" Ronon growled, "He said to Teyla that he barely escaped from the last Hive he was on among the Wraith with his life, and that was even before he'd poisoned half of their food supply with the Hoffan drug."

"I hear you, Ronon," Sheppard said, "but they've got reasons to keep him alive too. Who better to give them a cure?"

Ronon shook his head but said nothing.

Sheppard fell silent too. He wondered, and not for the first time, what was bothering the big Satedan. He had been in this mood ever since Teyla had returned; before then even, and Sheppard wanted to know why.

"But you worry," Varnerin prompted.

"Even with our best resources, if we try to take on this Hive – and if they _are _responsible for Michael's capture – we might be… biting off a little more than we can chew."

"But you just said," Woolsey sat back in his chair, spreading his hands wide as his wrists rested on the tabletop, "that one good reason for the Wraith to keep Michael alive is so that he can provide them with a cure that would allow them to feed again. Surely _that_ makes this proposition one that we can't ignore. Right now, our single greatest weapon against the Wraith is the fact that their feeding grounds are tainted and a great number of them are dying from it."

"Now just a minute," Carson frowned deeply as he spoke, "Either way you look at it, this is people's lives we're talking about."

"And either way you look at it, Doctor Beckett," Woolsey answered, "That isn't going to change."

"So what you're saying," McKay said, distaste clear in his voice, "is that we should go get Michael off that Hive to stop him from giving them a cure?"

"What I'm saying is," Woolsey corrected, "that there are far greater considerations here than just Teyla and her child, and that if she has given us the means to finding and eliminating a potential setback—"

"Which we can do with a few well aimed drones," Ronon interrupted. "We don't have to risk boarding the Hive and—"

"No, we can't," Carson cut in, and Sheppard could tell that the doctor's mind had just arrived at the same conclusion as his own. He let the doctor continue, frowning at Woolsey as Carson said, "because Michael can also provide _us_ with a cure to help those of our allies stricken with the symptoms of exposure to the Hoffan drug. Isn't that right, Mister Woolsey? You plan to use Michael to further Earth's agenda in the Pegasus galaxy."

"Haven't we tried that once?" Sheppard asked lazily. "As I recall, didn't work out too well for the Taranans."

"Didn't work out too well for _anybody_," Carson said, "besides which, it's entirely redundant."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Woolsey asked.

"From what I've seen of the research data that Doctor Keller and Todd were working with, sooner or later the Wraith are going to develop a solution with or without Michael's help," Carson said.

"You… managed to restore the missing files then?

Sheppard frowned as McKay threw the irrelevant question into the cauldron of tension around which they were all sitting.

"But surely _sooner_ is for the better, Doctor Beckett, and with Michael in _our_ hands rather than those of the Wraith—"

"What the hell makes you think he'll cooperate anyways?" Ronon spat, full of bitterness and vitriol.

"And aren't we forgetting something here?" Sheppard's head was spinning in the sudden quasi-politico-military tactics.

"What?" Ronon growled, his gruff tone silencing the room.

"Teyla needs Michael so that she can find her son," he said.

"Again with the, _what makes you think he'll cooperate_?" Ronon said.

"Look," Woolsey interrupted before Sheppard could turn the suddenly sour taste at his friend's attitude into a blistering tirade. "We can talk ourselves blue in the face about this, but the fact is, all things considered, in my opinion, having Michael in _our_ hands and not either in the hands of the Wraith, or roaming free to wreak havoc is more favourable for the Pegasus galaxy and I'm sure the IOA will feel that way as well."

"So, what: you're saying we have a go?" Sheppard asked, and sitting straighter in his seat did little to banish the uneasy feeling that settled in his belly at the thought.

"I'm saying I believe there are more advantages than disadvantages," Woolsey said, "that we need to examine Teyla's information, assemble the relevant equipment and personnel, and evaluate whether a tactical assault on this particular Hive in order to extract the individual in question is worth the risks involved."

"Assuming you can _find_ the Hive, and the individual aboard it," Ronon said.

"Which is where Doctor McKay comes in," Woolsey said and Sheppard allowed his gaze to be guided to find the scientist's as Woolsey asked, "Did you manage to locate the Hive?"

"I did, as a matter of fact," McKay said, sitting up and brightening considerably. Sheppard frowned as McKay rambled on. "It's in orbit around M8F-392. I'm guessing it's culling. There are a number of cruisers and several smaller craft in support but they keep jum—"

"A _number_ of cruisers?" Sheppard interrupted. "This just keeps on getting better and better."

"If you'd let me finish—"

"Be my guest," Sheppard said.

"—I was about to say that's the bad news. The good news is that the cruisers seem to be jumping away, presumably to… scurry to go and do their queen's bidding and—"

"Scurrying?" Ronon gave McKay the sour look that was poised in Sheppard's brain.

"Professor," Woolsey raised his voice slightly, and Sheppard turned his way, beginning to believe that the frown that was beginning to make his head ache was going to become a perpetual feature of the next few days. When those around the table had fallen silent from the muttering edges of argument that had begun, Woolsey said, "Have you had the chance to speak with Teyla at all?"

"Barely a word, Richard," Varnerin said and with his voice pitched low, he sounded almost reasonable. "Mind you that's understandable, given our last encounter, I would say. However, I have Doctor Beckett's report, and have viewed the Gate Room security footage, and if you're asking whether or not I believe her word can be trusted, then… yes."

"Well then, gentlemen," Woolsey said, beginning to straighten up his papers. "I think you've all made your respective positions clear and until I have spoken with the IOA, all we can do is continue to monitor the Hive and start to formulate a plan of attack. Colonel Sheppard, perhaps you could consult with Colonel Caldwell…"

Sheppard tuned him out. He had already decided exactly who he was going to talk to… and it wasn't Steven.

**

Halling looked up from his hoeing as the shadow fell over him.

"Colonel Sheppard," Halling straightened up and setting his hoe aside, moved to greet the man properly.

"They told me I'd find you here," the colonel said.

"Even though we continue to strengthen our community, Colonel, my people must eat, and that means that even I must participate in the growing – Teyla too, were she here." Halling smiled, and gesturing toward the pathway he invited Sheppard to precede him. "But you did not come to hear of our Athosian farming techniques."

"Actually," Sheppard said, "It's Teyla I'm here about."

The smile faded from Halling's face and he reached out to catch Sheppard's arm.

"You know, do you not, that Ronon came here not many weeks ago, looking for Teyla. I told him, as I tell you now, she left us because she feared her presence brought the Wraith and there has been no word of her since," Halling said.

"Yeah, he told me." Sheppard said and started walking again.

Halling studied the other man's profile, trying to work out what had brought the colonel to him, wondering what news of his friend the man brought to him, and if it would be good or bad. He was already eternally parted from so many of his friends. He could not bear to have lost another.

"Halling," Sheppard said at last. "I need your help."

"Oh?"

"Teyla's in Atlantis. She had a run-in with some Wraith she says are holding Michael." Sheppard stopped walking and turned to face him. "You know her, Halling, better than any of us. You know how to talk to her."

"What is it that you ask of me, John?" Halling asked quietly.

**

Carson leaned closer to the screen and ran his expert eyes over the analysis of the blood panel. It wasn't right. It really wasn't right and the possibilities that were passing one by one, as a catalogue of possible causes were getting more and more worrying by the moment.

He checked the header again, just to assure himself that he hadn't missed the name of the patient to whom the test results belonged, but whoever it was that had purged the file in the first place – and he wasn't stupid enough that he didn't have a pretty good idea of who that was – had never bothered to properly complete all the fields on the form.

It didn't take a master detective to put together all the pieces of the puzzle. However, the picture that puzzle made wasn't one he even wanted to contemplate.

Abandoning the old data, he got up from his stool and went to retrieve the last blood sample he had taken from Keller just after she'd fainted. Even with the slight degradation that would have occurred while the sample was in stasis, he should be able to perform a detailed enough analysis to confirm or allay his suspicions.

While the computer whirred through its analysis of the blood sample he'd given it, quiet footfalls behind him drew his attention away from the other files displayed on his screen. He gave a slight smile to the junior doctor that approached.

"Did you need me for something?" he asked.

"I need your signature, Doctor Beckett, on some outstanding paperwork." Doctor Meronine told him. "Strictly speaking it should be Doctor Keller that signs off on the procedure, since she ordered it, but she hasn't and the paperwork is overdue."

"Procedure?" Carson frowned, and held out his hand for the file that the other Doctor was cradling against her chest.

She handed it to him, frowning slightly. "She didn't mention it to you when she handed over?"

"I'm sure it just slipped her mind," Carson said, flipping open the file. "You know she had that wee turn…"

His voice trailed off as all the moisture was suddenly leached from his mouth by the terrible realisation of the final piece of his puzzle falling into place, just as the computer bleeped softly to announce the end of its analysis.

**

The door behind her, which led back into the city, opened and closed. She didn't turn, simply kept looking out over the water.

"May I join you, Teyla?"

To hear Halling's voice after so long away from her people brought fresh tears to her eyes to spill over onto her cheeks, drawing new tracks to meet with the ones she had already made.

She reached up quickly, taking her hand from the rail to brush away the tears, but stopped as she felt Halling's warmth at her back, and the softness of his voice washed over her as he said, "You do not need to hide your tears from me."

"I hide them from everyone, Halling," she answered, "but most of all from myself."

"You never used to," he told her. "It has always been part of what I admire about you, Teyla. When we lost… Jinto's mother—"

"You still cannot bring yourself to speak her name," Teyla said softly.

"There is not a day that passes where it does not echo in my heart," he answered.

She sighed then, gazing outward across the water that rippled atop the deeps, remembering Halling's wife; remembering what she had done to try and save her people; her family, and the painful price that had been exacted in Halling as social customs had demanded his public renunciation of all but their son, even as he was torn apart by his own emotion. Teyla had shared with him – shared and understood. She had wept with him then.

He moved to stand beside her at the rail, leaning his elbows on it as he too looked out over the ocean.

"Colonel Sheppard asked me to speak with you," Halling said after a while.

Teyla nodded and said, "To change my mind."

"He believes that you are too bound by everything that has happened to be able to make a rational decision – to be able to distance yourself and see that truth of the situation," Halling said. "He fears that considerations other than the rescue of your son from Michael's hands drive your actions, your needs."

"And you, Halling – what do _you_ believe?" she asked. She glanced at him for a moment before looking away again to ask, "What would _you_ do if it were Jinto?"

He stood up then, moving to take her by the shoulder and turn her to face him, and speaking with the earnest honesty she so cherished in him, said, "You have asked me that once before, Teyla, and my answer to you now is as then. You must follow your heart in this; none can decide your path _for _you."

"But what if—" she began, but he interrupted quickly.

"No. There is no _what if_. That is what has brought us to this, and from here we must all soon face a time when each of us must decide upon which side we stand; upon which ground we will build our home and our hopes for the future."

She looked up at him, into the deep blue of his troubled eyes and he drew her closer, until she could rest her head against his chest and find a balance in the steady rhythm of his heart.

"It begins now," he continued, his voice a deep rumble, like thunder, bearing portents. "My only fear is that this path, upon which the Ancestors have placed us, will be hardest of all for you."

"Halling," she whispered, admitting, "I am afraid."

"I know," he said, and she looked up again as he drew her away from him, seeking her eyes with his own. "But you are not alone, and if it is decided; if it is _your_ wish to take on this fight for Michael's salvation, then I will go with you… into the very heart of darkness if that is where your path leads."

She reached up then to cup the side of his face in her hand as he bowed his head in farewell to meet with her own, accepting his support – needing it, until straightening, he stepped away.

"I will inform Colonel Sheppard of your decision," he told her, and then turned to walk inside.

Watching him go, in the light of the sun setting behind the towers of the city, she couldn't suppress the shiver that ran along her spine as she recalled the other question she had laid between them…

_What if I am all that stands between the people of this galaxy, and the mess that we have created of it?_

**

"Give us the lab, please," Carson said as he walked in, his steps purposeful, worry for Jennifer driving his agitation. The technicians all but scurried to leave the room.

"Carson?" Jennifer turned to face him.

For a moment he said nothing, just took in her sickly appearance, the slight tremor in her hands, which she tucked beneath her arms and the slightly dishevelled manner of her dress.

"Just when where you going to tell me what's going on?" he said, and tossed the file, open to Meronine's report, onto the bench beside her. "Were you _that_ afraid that you completely forgot protocol?"

He watched as what little colour was still in her cheeks drained, though the spark of anger flared in her eyes.

"You didn't need to know," she snapped.

"Didn't need—" he blinked, "Don't be ridiculous, of course I needed to know. You put yourself through an invasive procedure without counselling, without the proper safeguards, your system _full_ of Wraith enzyme—"

"And what?" she snapped. "What difference would any of that have made if you knew? You took your own blood panel. You could _see _the state of my system! I got back to Atlantis, I realised a possibility and it was one I couldn't bear – so I did something about it!"

"Which is perfectly reasonable," Carson raised his voice to make himself heard over her. "But why, Jennifer, _why_ try to _hide_ it – and from _me? _Dear God, am I _that_ much of a monster?"

"_I_ didn't want to know," she practically yelled in his face. "_I_ didn't want to remember. Bad enough that I did this, but—"

"Jennifer, stop!" he stepped forward and took her by the arms, gently but firmly.

"Let go of me, Carson," she said, and struggled against his restraining grasp.

"Just… listen, all right," he said, but she shook her head, and something in her manner made him realise the reason for her struggles. Far from letting go he quickly brought her to the sink at the side of the lab, and then held back her hair as she vomited weakly.

"Sorry," she whispered, taking the tissue he offered and mopping up her mouth.

"No need," he said quietly, drawing up a stool for her to sit. "It's probably a combination of the stress, and your body's reaction to the decay of the Wraith enzyme, but please, for God's sake, Jennifer, _talk_ to me."

"What do you want me to say, Carson?" she asked, trembling as she looked up at him. "That I'm not sleeping? That I can barely keep anything down? You _know_ about the anaemia, you diagnosed it. I've tried looking for reasons, for pathogens I might have been exposed to while on Todd's Hive or in Michael's lab, but I can't find anything, and I wouldn't know what to look for anyway."

"You let me worry about that," he said.

"No… just… treat the anaemia, I'm sure the rest of it will pass." She leaned her head against her trembling hand and sighed. "It's probably just psychological in any case."

"No, Jennifer, you know it doesn't work like that," he said, giving her a stern look. "Strictly speaking, if I follow protocol, I should have you in isolation right now until we find out exactly what's causing all of your symptoms." He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting, shaking his head as he did. "I'm not going to, but I am going to insist on performing as many tests as it takes to find out what's going on."

"I just want to be left alone," she told him. "Get on with my _life._ Haven't I let Todd take enough?"

"Let him?" Carson echoed softly, a frown finding its way to his face.

"It wasn't just once," she whispered. "And Carson, I— I didn't stop him, I—"

"Need I remind you, he's a Wraith?" he said, taking her hand to cut her off. "Now… enough of this – let's see about getting you better, and Jennifer… no more secrets."

"I don't deserve this," she whispered, and surprising him, she got up from the stool, and pushed past him as she pulled her hand from his grasp. "Just leave me alone."

**

It had become a personal habit to look first out among the trees and then up to the sky each time she came out of the roundhouse that was her home. Most of the time, her churning stomach, and the frantic beating of her heart, were calmed by the absence of anything but the wind and clouds, but with Halling's absence, and with none to confirm that the empty sky would remain that way, Kara's nervousness would not abate.

"Take the children inside," she ordered a nearby mother, who with her daughters knelt by the small patch of dirt that served as their garden, separating seedlings to give them more room to grow.

"Kara?" Sovis, one of the men nearby, came to her side, and she noticed that he too cast a quick glance at the sky. "Do you see something?"

"No, but I hear it… feel it," she told him. "It is too quiet."

He nodded his understanding, and crossing the space between the houses began to help the mother and her daughters to pack away their things. Kara wrapped her arms around herself as she watched; unable to understand how or why she felt the way she did – as though a chill was running through her blood.

"Get yourself inside too, Kara," Sovis said. "I will see to alerting the oth—"

"Too late," Kara breathed, as he turned in the direction of her frightened gaze. She hadn't seen them, or yet heard them, but knew they were coming.

From behind the distant trees a formation of needle noses resolved to split the night, their whining banshee scream coming ahead of them. The lead Dart opened fire, making a strafing run through the centre of the village, the explosions rocking the ground and bringing more Athosians hurrying, in fear, from inside the roundhouses.

"No!" Sovis called at them all, "Stay inside. They are trying to draw you out."

It was the typical tactic of Wraith involved in a cull, evoke fear, scatted their prey like rats. The Athosian's knew this, perhaps better than anyone, Kara thought, but still they ran.

"Stay inside!" she too called, as the strafing Dart turned in midair, rolling over as it came to let fly a second salvo, while its supporting craft began to activate the shimmering cascades that would steal what was left of her people. "No! Sovis!"

She cried out in a mix of anger and horror as a frightened toddler, separated from his parents, crying for his mother wandered straight into the path of the culling beam, too far for her to reach him in time, but perhaps, just maybe close enough to Sovis for him to save the child.

Sovis turned and sprinted, launching himself at the boy and rolled as the two of them impacted the dirt, out of the beam's path. The boy cried anew in shock and pain, but Kara sighed in relief, hurrying across the space between them, meaning to help with the distraught child. The expression on Sovis' face stopped her mid stride.

"No, Kara, there are more of them – too many!" she turned her gaze southward, tangential to the path already flown by the Darts overhead, watching as several more Darts came screaming towards the village. "Take everyone into the trees!"

She didn't move… couldn't; watched with horrified fascination as they came closer and closer still, and then she jumped, and let out a gasping scream as each of the Darts in the incoming formation began banking toward the others, opening fire with high energy weapons.

More screams split the air as the first of the Darts exploded overhead, reigning down burning pieces of organic hull to catch the thatched roofs of the roundhouses, and send them flaming into the night sky.

Kara's heart pounded as Sovis got to her side and thrust the squirming toddler into her arms.

"The trees!" he repeated, giving her a push that way, and then calling out more loudly to the milling, frightened Athosians he cried, "Everybody! Make for the trees!"

She began to run, cradling the boy's head against her shoulder, her belly aching with the thought that two separate Wraith factions were fighting over the remnants of their one tiny people.

She could not stop the sob that burst from her as she reached the trees, and turned to watch her people as they, too, ran toward shelter, but another thought struck her then… and it was strangely more chilling than the last. So much so that it drove her to her knees, clutching the tree beside her for support.

Though her people ran beneath the shadow of the remaining, low flying Darts, not a single one of those Wraith ships had activated its culling beam.

**

Sheppard frowned, feeling as though he was the last to the party as he arrived in the conference room to find everyone already assembled around the mahogany table, Ronon, McKay, Beckett, Caldwell – they were all there.

"Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey looked up as he took his place. "I apologise for the late call. It took a while to get everything organised – coordinated."

"What's going on?" Sheppard asked, looking again around the table. He had a pretty good idea what this was all about. A fact only confirmed when his eyes passed Teyla's chair that was once again occupied. A pang of nostalgia welled up inside him and he had to clear his throat to settle it; push it aside.

"I've spoken with a representative of the IOA, at some length I might add," Woolsey told them, "and it has been decided that the benefits of having Michael in our custody rather than that of the Wraith far outweigh the risks involved in his recapture. I've been authorised to tell you that you have a go."

"We have a go?" Sheppard repeated. Incredulity wrapped around him, seeping into each word and catalysing his sarcasm. "Just like that?"

"You're out of your minds," Ronon rumbled and started to get up; to head for the door.

"Ronon, sit down," Woolsey's voice cracked out like a whip across the room, and Sheppard couldn't help but frown.

"Ronon," he echoed, "If we're gonna do this, we need you, buddy."

Ronon growled as he came to a halt and turning round to address them all, and speaking as if to children, said, "Haven't you people learned anything? They're Wraith. They kill people, it's what they do—!"

"Ronon," Sheppard said warningly. He didn't think that Ronon's tantrum was going to get them anywhere toward changing anyone's mind.

"—and sooner or later someone's going to get hurt, or worse, and for what—?" Ronon went on bitterly.

"Ronon, sit down!" Sheppard said again, but the big Satedan wouldn't be moved.

"—how many people are going to—?"

Teyla came to her feet then, still leaning on the table and raising her voice to be heard over Ronon's angry rumble.

"Ronon, I understand your objections, I do," she said urgently, "and I share your hatred of the Wraith, but this is my—"

As she spoke, Sheppard watched Ronon reach behind him, and pulled something from a pocket in the lining of his vest and tossed it onto the table in front of Teyla. It fell against the wood with a resounding bang, and Teyla jumped, cut off mid sentence by the sound and, Sheppard realised, by the recognition of the object – a large, fabric bound book.

The following silence was suffocating.

Sheppard watched as the others at the table exchanged confused glances with one another, until Teyla said with almost whispered fury, "How dare you?"

The anger crept upwards over her chest and neck to colour her face and narrow her eyes, bringing her pupils to sharp points within her eyes.

"Just tell me the reason we're going to get this bastard has nothing to do with what's in there," Ronon said. His voice was now as soft as hers had been. He raised his hand and pointed to the book that Sheppard realised must be Teyla's journal.

Teyla, trembling in anger, picked up the book and said, "I need. To find. My son." She held Ronon's gaze as she continued, "What was written here, months ago when I was first returned to Atlantis, has nothing to do with this mission, and it has _nothing_ to do with _any_ of you."

Sheppard sighed, and McKay shifted, obviously uncomfortably, in his seat as Ronon took a step toward Teyla. She drew herself up to her full height, not much against the massive bulk of the Satedan, but from the shadowed corner of the room a figure detached itself, and Sheppard realised he had not noticed Halling's presence in the room. He put himself almost in Ronon's path, stopping the other man cold.

"She has given you her answer," the Athosian said.

"Ronon," Beckett said softly, "Sit down, Son."

Ignoring them both, Ronon's eyes locked with Teyla's and Sheppard was worried that it wasn't over.

Then Ronon growled quietly, "Good enough," and all but threw himself into his seat.

Woolsey cleared his throat and finally began the mission briefing.

**

Rissek looked up as the hybrid stationed at the communications console left his place and approached him with a tablet in hand. Frowning he took the tablet and looked over it. His frown only deepened as he did.

"When did we receive this?" he demanded.

"Moments ago," the other hybrid answered. "Received on the subspace channel our communications array has been monitoring."

Rissek handed back the tablet, his heart raced in his chest as he slipped his hands into the grip of the navigation interface and entered into communion with the Hive. The forward screen came to life at his behest, showing first a star map with the desired coordinates marked with a shining spot of light, and then to show the way ahead, and the forming lightning portal of the hyperspace window.

"Now," he said aloud as the thrum of the ship's engines intensified beneath his feet. "It begins."


	3. Act 3

**Stargate Atlantis**

** No Way Back**

When All Else Seems Lost

**Act 3**

"Holy crap!" McKay exclaimed, "We knew it was big when it took out the mountain on M3X-667, but—"

"Easy, McKay, it's just another Hive," Sheppard answered lazily.

Teyla moved forward to look through the front of Jumper One's screen, her hand resting on the back of both McKay's and Sheppard's seats. She couldn't help but concur with McKay's assessment. Landed it had looked massive, but surrounded by the black of space and framed by the blue and green of the planet over which it loomed, the Hive seemed impossibly large.

"Well at least the Dart Bays are already open," McKay noted, watching as the Darts dodged and wove around each other coming in and out of both forward and aft hatches. "We won't need a diversion to get inside."

"You are certain the cloak—"

"Yes," chorused both Sheppard and McKay, each turning a sour expression Teyla's way.

"What do you think, McKay," Sheppard continued a moment later, "Front or rear?"

"Well… generally speaking the rear half of a Hive is concerned with the technical stuff… drive chamber, CO2 scrubbers, that kind of thing, so… I dunno, but I'd go with front maybe?"

Teyla sighed, McKay didn't sound too sure and they had always relied on him to navigate their way around Wraith Hives.

"Will that not put us too close to the bridge to be able to move around freely?" she asked, trying to remember the geography of the Hives she had been aboard throughout her missions with her friends, and from her time aboard Michael's ship.

"She has a point," McKay muttered softly.

"Make up your mind, McKay," Sheppard answered, not without some irritation in his voice. "Front or rear?"

"What's the rush? I mean, we're cloaked and—"

"John!"

Teyla cried out at the same moment that the Jumper's proximity alarms began to sound and the needle-nosed Wraith Dart appeared seemingly out of nowhere. As if to prove McKay's point about them being cloaked it flew rapidly toward them on a direct collision course.

Having looked away to berate McKay for his indecision, Sheppard was slow to respond, but at her cry, and the sound of alarms, he snapped his attention back to flying the jumper and banked hard to the right.

Even with the inertial dampeners, Teyla stumbled and had to grab a tighter hold against the back of McKay's chair to prevent herself from being thrown against the bulkhead. Her left shoulder twisted, and a sharp pain bit, in protest of her rough treatment.

**

The Hive Second walked around the room slowly, never taking his eyes off the woman on her knees in the middle of the otherwise empty chamber.

"Neither is it because you had found favour with our Queen that saves you from that fate." He tilted his head as he came to a halt in front of her. "Rather her desire to make an example of you."

"Lord—"

"I did not give you leave to speak!" he raised his voice, pushing at her with his mind, full of threat. He had taken her from the pod into which she had been dragged, apparently screaming and begging for her life after her arrogance had led her to confess to the murder of one among the Handlers. Ordinarily this would not have bothered the Hive Second, but after so many incidents of violence among the worshipper populations, the issue had to be tackled and the problem stopped before it became an epidemic.

He saw her eyes flicker up toward him, and doubted strongly that the contrition he saw there was genuine. She was far too arrogant for that. This woman truly believed that since she spread her legs for the Hive Commander, his status conferred to her some kind of power or influence. The thing that annoyed him the most was that – in some ways – she was probably right, and he was certain that the Hive Commander would do something to undermine him, and the punishment he must deliver.

"That is why," he said, his voice even in spite of his growing ire, "she has decided that you will be publicly branded for your crimes."

He was prepared for almost any reaction to the declaration, for such a thing was not previously unknown aboard the Hive and those branded lived out what was left of their short lives – and admittedly they were short once such a thing happened – as the lowliest of creatures, reviled even by their worshipper companions. When she threw herself at his feet he was not, therefore, surprised. Nor was he irritated by it, it simply _was_.

Lesser Wraith would have kicked out at the woman; in some way punished her for her display. He, however, took her by the elbows and raised her to her feet, afterwards taking her hands in one of his, and using the other to cup beneath her chin and force her to meet his steady gaze.

"Once, I gave you advice, which you chose to ignore," he said calmly, though his voice was chilling. "Heed me now, woman. I know that your Commander will seek to undermine me in this, will use this to prove his mastery of the Hive. It would be wiser were you to show your loyalty to the Queen and not to that one…" He tilted his head then, watching as understanding of the situation, and of the coming of change, dawned slowly on her face. "If you do… then… perhaps… I will allow you to throw yourself upon my mercy."

**

"Receiving telemetry… they're in."

Colonel Caldwell turned in his chair slightly to regard his con officer as Marks relayed the progress of the others into the Hive.

"Send acknowledgement and then go to radio silence," he ordered. "If they need us, they can call. Let's also try and keep those moons between us and the Hive; minimise their chances of detecting us."

"Way ahead of you, Sir," Marks answered with a smile and Caldwell nodded. It was one of the reasons he preferred Marks at his side. He knew he could rely on the man to anticipate his needs, and to try and do what was best for the ship even before the orders came. On the end of that thought Caldwell sighed. Sooner of later Marks was going to achieve promotion and he doubted that the man would be satisfied in remaining a simple con officer. He would want a command of his own, and frankly deserved it.

"Sir?" Marks asked, obviously hearing the sigh.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Major," Caldwell said, nodding to the man. "How are we doing?"

"We'll be in position in ten, nine, eight…"

Caldwell tuned out the countdown, though he found the calm tones in Marks' voice a comfort to the tension he felt at being so close to the biggest damn Hive ship he'd ever seen. Taking a breath, he turned his thoughts to those members of the expedition who had just walked into the heart of the enemy's territory in order to affect the rescue of an individual who, in his opinion, did not warrant the risk, and much as he liked Teyla; much as he understood her dilemma, he wasn't sure that he would so readily have approved the mission if _he_ had been the one making the decisions. It seemed like madness to him.

**

Sheppard held his breath as the two drones passed the small alcove into which he, Teyla and McKay were huddled. He prayed that the others had managed to find similar places of concealment. A fire-fight so early on in the mission would almost guarantee its failure and more than likely their demise – just to put the icing on the proverbial cake.

The moment passed and behind him, McKay exhaled loudly. Sheppard couldn't help but smile grimly.

"Don't tell me you were worried, McKay," he said and though his tone was one of teasing, even he could hear the underlying tension in it.

"And you're going to try and tell me you're not?" McKay's retort was brittle.

"It would be foolish," Teyla hissed, slipping past both of them and out into the corridor before turning back to finish, "to pretend that _any_ of us are anything other, but this is nothing we have not done on any number of occasions."

Sheppard joined her in the corridor and shot her a withering look.

"Admittedly the size of this Hive is greater, but—"

"What now?" Ronon led the others to join Sheppard's position, interrupting Teyla.

"Now we find where they keep their prisoners, get Michael and get out, right?" McKay said nervously.

"Assuming Teyla's Intel is sound," Sheppard answered.

"My information is accurate, John," Teyla snapped.

"I don't mean to sound alarmist," Beckett said softly, and as Sheppard turned he saw the doctor looking first one way and then the other, "but is this the right place to be having this discussion?"

"Rodney?" Sheppard asked, throwing a glance McKay's way.

"I'm working on it," the scientist said, pushing rapidly at the screen on his tablet, "but without access to a data terminal I can only speculate based on what we know of other Hives and—"

"Do you know where we're going or not?" Ronon grumbled.

"Not!" McKay snapped, looking up from his tablet. "I told you—"

"Then we must find you what you need," Teyla said, interrupting and turning sideways to pass Sheppard.

He caught her arm before she could pass him, feeling the slats of her skirt swing to a halt against the lower half of his leg.

"No heroics, Teyla," he said softly. "You take it easy; take care of that shoulder. We're here to get him and get out with minimum engagement, minimum risk."

"Believe me, John," she said pulling her arm from his grasp. "I have no desire to put anyone at risk, least of all myself."

"Just so we understand one another," he said.

"Oh, I understand perfectly," she retorted softly as she moved off, cautiously leading the way along the corridor with her borrowed P90 at the ready.

Part of him was relieved that she had not forgotten how to use it.

**

At the signal from Ronon, Beckett flattened himself against the wall as much as the bulky medical pack on his back would allow. The tension between his companions bothered him. While it was understandable, it was not going to be helpful to the task in hand.

He watched as Teyla crouched, pulling Halling down beside her and could only imagine what must be going through her mind as the Wraith passed close enough that they could have reached out and touched them.

He had no doubt in her certainty that Michael was aboard and that fact, too, unnerved _him_. The last time he had seen Michael he had been trying to rescue Teyla – a very pregnant Teyla…

_There were two of them, leading her, one at each arm along the gantry. He took aim, trying to take the hybrids down as humanely as possible. She looked at him with a mix of horror and incredulity on her face._

_"Carson!" she hissed and backed away as he approached._

_"I know… I'm the last person you expected to see," he said and reached for her as she continued to back away, trying to take hold of her arm. Her obvious fear of him hurt, even though he understood where it came from. "It's all right. I'm here to help you."_

_"No," she whispered and shook her head, snatching a breath before continuing, "It is not possible."_

_"I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain," he pointed behind him, desperate to reach through Teyla's doubts. "Colonel Sheppard and the others are waiting back at the lab. We have to go. Now!"_

_He took her arm then, somewhat relieved as she took that smallest of steps toward him._

_"I can't," she said._

_"Teyla," he called her name with rising desperation._

_"Kanaan," she spoke the name with such pain that he couldn't help but stop to listen, "the father of my son, he is still here. I am not leaving without him."_

_"There's no time," he whispered urgently, and on his face a wash of understanding sympathy even as he began to pull on her arm, to draw her along with him._

_"Quite correct!"_

_He spun, pulling Teyla with him until she was behind him, and he had put himself, protectively, between her and Michael. He pointed his gun in Michael's direction._

_"You should have run while you had the chance, but you let your feelings get in the way."_

_It was becoming difficult to breathe. His lungs ached as he drew each quick breath. Michael stepped toward them, almost smiling sardonically._

_"Stay back. I'm warning you," Carson said, his face was creased with mixed anger and loathing, but in the back of his mind a strange fascination pulled at him – to lower the gun – to follow Michael; do as he desired._

_"Shoot him, Carson," Teyla said, with such conviction that he was momentarily taken aback. The gun in his hand grew heavier and his hand trembled even as he tried to keep it steady. "Shoot him now!"_

_There was a terrible moment of silence, until Michael began to advance toward them again, and when he spoke there was a tired disappointment in his voice as he explained, "He doesn't want to shoot me… or to be more precise, he'd like nothing more, but… like all of my creations, he's open to my influence."_

_He trembled with effort, determined to prove Michael wrong; to prove himself to Teyla, to save her. He felt the heat in his face as he flushed with the effort._

_"Carson," she whispered._

_"I'm sorry, Teyla," he said, still trying to pull the trigger._

_She stepped toward him, obviously meaning to help; to close her hand around his and pull it for him, but Michael was faster. The stunner the Wraith-Human hybrid held in his hand flew up to aim perfectly at Teyla._

_"Don't!" Michael snapped. Teyla froze._

_Carson watched as Michael looked in Teyla's direction and tilted his head, an almost sour expression crossing his features for barely a moment, before Michael reached out and took the gun from Carson's hand. He could do nothing more than stand, gasping for breath in front of his creator._

_"You don't look well, Doctor. You should have stayed with me," Michael said. "I'd give you an injection but I… don't have any with me. Anyway…"_

_For a moment a look almost of regret crossed Michael's features, before the corners of his lips twitched up sadly to an almost smile._

_"…you've served your purpose."_

_He knew what was coming. Tried to fight to move… to do __**anything**__, but Michael held him fast as he switched his aim, and fired the stunner. The blast took him in the centre of his chest, and the freezing tingling did not have far to go until it had numbed almost everything that he was. He fell to his knees, and slumped over, losing consciousness even as he heard Michael's angry instruction to Teyla._

…and now that same woman, a dear and loyal friend was asking him to help her to _save_ Michael, in order to save the child she had been carrying – though _he_ knew that as much as she might protest otherwise, it was not the only reason. He couldn't be sure how he felt about that… any of it.

"Hey, Doc," Ronon's voice broke in on his fearful recollections – fearful because he was not sure what would happen when he next saw Michael.

"I'm fine, Son," he told Ronon. "We just need to get Rodney to that terminal, and quickly, before we all lose our nerve."

**

McKay jumped as Sheppard grabbed his arm and pulled him suddenly against the bulkhead.

"Sheppard, what are you—?" He gestured around the other man to the console that lay against the wall in the junction ahead of them. "The computer's right—"

"Yeah," Sheppard hissed, "and so are the Wraith."

As he spoke, Sheppard peeked around the corner of the bulkhead. He pulled back sharply and began pushing back along the line of their companions.

"Back it up: we got company!"

Hurrying along with the others, McKay felt the bubbling of fear in his belly, amid the frustration. They had been so close only to have to turn around; find another safe haven. He began to wonder if they were ever going to get anywhere and turned to face Teyla as Ronon pulled him through a doorway. He was going to tell her of his doubts, his worries, but Sheppard followed and hit the control to close the door, and it made him feel trapped, claustrophobic.

Teyla was standing to one side of the room and speaking with Halling quietly, but he thought, from the look on her face, that she was as frustrated as he was.

"Good enough," Sheppard said as he turned from the door. "McKay, you think you could lock this thing?"

"Of course I can," he retorted, turning to do just that. In his frustration he blurted out the words that were in the front of his mind. "Sooner or later we're going to have to stop… sneaking around – hiding."

"That's as may be," said Sheppard, "but I'd prefer any engagement to be _after_ we've got Michael, on the way _out._"

"You know," Ronon said, sounding more than a little agitated. "Maybe McKay's right. We've been sneaking around here for hours, following what little we know of Wraith Hives and trying blind to figure out where to go. We need to _know_, Sheppard, or we're going to get caught no matter _what_ we do."

McKay sighed, turning his attention to his computer and not at all liking the direction in which his frustrated comment had led the conversation. Like this he was failing his friends and letting Teyla down. He didn't want to do that, but what more could he do without access to the computers?

"Look," he said, interrupting, "basically all Hives follow the same design, right? I think the problem is, because of the scale, we're getting all turned around."

He looked up at Sheppard, and then from him to the others. He saw hope in their eyes and inherent trust in him to get them to where they needed to be.

"Five minutes, that's all I need. Five minutes with the computer terminal to get a point of reference."

"There is another way," Teyla said softly and as McKay caught the look in her eyes and realised what she meant, the blood ran to his feet, as chilled as the imaginary fingers that ran over his spine. He was about to protest; formulated the words in his head before he spoke them aloud when Beckett's voice sounded in earnest.

"No, Teyla," the doctor said, "not here. I've no way of pulling you out of it if something goes wrong and one of them gets into your head."

"Absolutely not," Sheppard added his voice to the objection.

"What choice is there?" she asked looking between the two of them. "Ronon is right: the more we wander aimlessly around, the more likely it becomes that we will be discovered."

"I won't expose you to that risk," Sheppard said, "Remember what happened the last time – with that queen?"

"Yes, John, I remember," Teyla said and from the look on her face, McKay suspected there was a lot she wasn't saying, "but—"

"But nothing!" Sheppard said, then suddenly turned his gaze McKay's way, startling the scientist. "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes," McKay confirmed.

"All right, Ronon, McKay, you're with me. Teyla – stay here with the others." He pushed the button to open the door and looked out before stepping into the corridor. "Anything comes through this door that isn't us, don't hesitate."

Teyla sighed. "I will keep them safe," she said.

**

"You think his course of action is wrong?" Halling asked her as Sheppard disappeared and Teyla sighed again softly.

"I do not think he believes or trusts the information I have brought to him," she said.

"That's not true, Teyla," Beckett said softly. "He trusts you just fine. He wouldn't have come otherwise."

Teyla shook her head. Once she could have believed that without question. She had known for a long time of the strength of her relationship with Sheppard, but it was one that had become further and further strained the longer and more intense the situation with Michael had become over the years.

"He is here because Mister Woolsey and the IOA have ordered this assault," she said sadly.

"Answer a question, Teyla?" Halling asked quietly, and she turned to him with a nod. "Do you truly believe you could safely reach into the minds of these Wraith to discover that which you wish to know?"

"I believe it may be the only way," she said, aware she had not answered the question. There was real threat and real danger doing so. The Hive belonged to the queen that had been seeking Michael when she had still been pregnant with Nethaiye, and should _she_ in any way connect with Teyla's mind, without Michael's protective strength it would mean a fight that could cost her life.

"That wasn't what I asked," Halling said, and she knew by her avoidance he would understand her fear. She swallowed in surprise and further trepidation when he asked, "Then what of Michael himself? Could you reach _him_?"

"I…" she faltered, remembering the terrible and confused pain that had flooded her before. With apprehension she said, "I believe that reaching for Michael is just as dangerous. He… is… dying."

Halling took her hand and the simple action was almost too much; almost broke through the barrier she had erected against the emotion with which the knowledge assaulted her. She let out a soft, low moan, and turned the doctor's way when Beckett took her other hand.

"And you didn't say anything because you didn't want Ronon to have the opportunity to say _I told you so_," he said.

"It is why I asked you to come on this mission even knowing how hard it is for you, Carson," she said, fighting the feeling of defeat. "Hive mind is a jumble of thoughts and images. He is in so very much pain: physical as well as in his mind."

"Teyla, you realise that there may be nothing I can do," Beckett said, squeezing her hand.

"He… has suffered too much, Carson," Teyla answered. She freed her hands and covered her face briefly to wipe away the tears that fell; knowing what she was about to say. "If he will tell me where to find my son and if there is truly nothing you can do, then I… I… will… give him release."

**

Crouched beside the computer terminal, Sheppard looked first one way and then the other before he hurriedly gestured toward McKay and Ronon.

Ronon made his way quickly and with the efficiency that Sheppard had come to admire in the man, toward the junction that had proven the busiest.

"McKay, c'mon!" he hissed beckoning again.

McKay hurried over to him and Sheppard nodded at the computer terminal.

"Five minutes," he reminded the man as McKay started tugging at the semi-organic panels so that he could get at the interface.

"You know," McKay said irritably as he worked and Sheppard moved away to cover the other corridor that led to the junction they were in. "You could show a little faith in my abilities every once in a while."

"I have a lot of faith in your abilities, Rodney," Sheppard said, glancing at him before returning his attention to the mist wreathed walls of the hallway lit in orange and red light. "It's the rest of this whole messed up situation I'm not confident about."

"You don't think Teyla's telling the truth," Ronon's voice rumbled across the space between them.

"She's telling the truth," McKay snapped, looking up from his work, but, leaning against the wall, Sheppard waved him to silence.

Sheppard had no doubt in the truth of Teyla's words, or the situation she was in, but his own feelings for her coloured his opinion; left him unsettled about just where he stood.

"She's telling the truth as far as it goes," he said, "I just think there's a lot more she's _not_ saying."

"Oh, what?" McKay said, his tone still bordering on anger, "So, because she wants to get the kidnapper of her son to tell her where he hid the boy, all of a sudden she's—"

"McKay, it's not like that," Sheppard said, "What has gotten _into_ you?"

"I just," McKay looked up again, and Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "I just know how I'd feel if it was _my_ son."

"You do?" Sheppard couldn't help the surprise in his voice.

"Well… no… but," McKay hedged. "I can _imagine_ and one day I—"

"McKay," Ronon hissed and the tension in his voice made Sheppard look around worriedly.

"Ronon?" he asked.

"Company," the big Satedan said. "Drones. Two of 'em."

"Rodney," Sheppard warned, "work faster!"

"I'm on it," McKay said and his hands flew over the tablet and the Wraith computer alike.

"McKay," Ronon repeated, the worry in his tone doubled.

"Almost there," McKay answered.

"Work faster," Sheppard said, and turned from his post to go and provide backup for Ronon.

"I'm working as fast as I can, I—" McKay broke off, and with a small laugh that drew Sheppard's attention away from watching the corridor, he said, "I got it."

"Move!" Sheppard responded instantly, pointing back along the corridor they'd followed to reach the computer, but as he turned back, he didn't need Ronon's bleak words to tell him that it had taken too long. His worst nightmare was on them.

"Too late!" Ronon growled, and grabbed the first of the drones by the arm to spin him against the bulkhead wall. In the same moment, the Satedan grabbed the long knife from his sheath and drove it into the back of the drone's skull.

Hope flared somewhere in the churning of Sheppard's belly. If they could be fast enough to take out the second drone before it had a chance to link with whatever Wraith sub-commander controlled it…

Hard on the heels of the thought the backhand blow sent him flying, lifting his feet from the misty floor and propelling him across the junction to land awkwardly on the computer terminal and roll to the floor.

His vision blurred, but not before he saw the drone reaching for Ronon. He wanted to call a warning, but there was no breath in him. At any moment he expected to hear the high pitched wail of the Hive's alarm and his heart sank as he felt everything slipping away from him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw McKay raise his sidearm, taking aim at the drone. The alarm still wasn't sounding, but the Wraith weren't deaf. If McKay fired they would surely be alerted. They had to trust in Ronon to take out the second drone before it could become focussed enough to send the impressions to its master.

"McKay, no!" he rasped.

**

Ronon held his breath. He knew he had seconds. He felt the drone closing behind him. There would be one chance, and only one.

At the last moment he dared, Ronon kicked out. His foot connected hard against the drone's hard belly, and he pushed with all of his strength, to send the Wraith staggering backwards, off balance and trying to find its equilibrium again. Ronon couldn't let that happen.

Wrenching his knife free of the dead drone's skull, he quickly turned and advanced on its living companion. He reached out. His hands closed around the Wraith drone's head, even as the creature raised its hands, clawing at his forearms to try and find freedom. Ignoring the pain, Ronon pushed, driving the drone back against the opposite wall. He refused to let go and, pinning the Wraith with the whole of his body, he twisted with his hands until he was rewarded by a sickening crack, and the scrabbling, clawing fingers suddenly ceased.

"Sheppard!" he turned immediately to his friend. If he hadn't been quick enough to kill the Wraith they'd know soon enough, and it would be important to be able to move quickly.

"I'm all right," Sheppard rasped, leaning on McKay as the other man helped him up. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."

"We need to move," Ronon said, "Hide these two somewhere they won't be found."

"Way ahead of you, big guy," Sheppard said, nodding down the corridor their retreat to Teyla and the others would take. "We can put them in that alcove we passed a few yards back."

"Yeah," Ronon agreed. "Seems like we got lucky."

"This time," Sheppard said ominously, moving to help him drag the corpses of the Wraith drones to their place of concealment.

**

The Queen ran her hand almost affectionately over the stasis container that her loyal sub-commander held out for her inspection. The transportation of so precious an instrument as was held within the box was something she would rather have trusted to her Hive Commander, or even more preferably to the Hive Second, but she was not foolish and recognised that the Hive, and she, needed them both in attendance. They could not yet be spared and until the scientist returned that would be the beginning and the end of the matter.

_=take this to our primary facility= =primary facility= =primary facility=_

The sub-commander gave an obedient bow, and turned to go and carry out her command. He would take a scout ship, she knew, through the portal to the planet close to the primary facility and from there fly to that place.

She had no fear that the contents, in stasis within the box, would come to harm. The facility was well hidden, and covertly well guarded by the cruisers she had dispatched recently. All that remained was for her to conclude her business on this world before she could bring the Hive to join the sub-commander, and claim her prize.

"So hard won," she purred as though to herself, but the caress she ran along the wall of her chamber signalled that her words were meant for another, one who – long ago – had served her as her handmaidens served her now. "So—"

She broke off, an unfamiliar sensation, a presence not of her Hive drifting into her awareness, so subtly that she might have missed it, but for the strangely familiar sense of threat that followed hard on the heels of the growing awareness.

Growling softly she concentrated her mind, and followed the sense of the intruder back to the source.

_=you!=_

**

Sheppard moved from one spiral cell to the next, all of them empty. He turned to the others as they moved also from cell to cell, as if one of them would find something that he had not.

Part of him was relieved that they hadn't found Michael; that they didn't need to deal with the many repercussions that might bring. Then he saw Teyla's face; the anguish in her eyes, the disappointed sorrow that was written into each line of her face as she tried to hold back her emotions and he cursed himself to the callous unthinking bastard that he felt as if he was in that moment.

"He's not here!" Ronon growled, as if the big man was oblivious to the effects his words could have.

Sheppard did not anticipate the response they _did_ elicit.

"He _was_ here," Teyla said softly, and keyed a panel on a console in the centre of the block of four cells where she stood. The doorway to one of the cells spiralled open, and Teyla slowly walked inside and bent down to pick up a leather coat that even across the distance between them, Sheppard could see was stained with blood. Teyla finished even more quietly as she picked up the garment, "once."

"Teyla, I'm sorry, Love, I—" Beckett started, but his voice was cut off by the gasp that Teyla let out as her body jerked upright, and her head fell back as though it was pulled.

"Teyla!" Sheppard called, and hurried to her side.

**

_=You should not have come here= =come here= =here= =here= =here=_

Teyla cried out at the pain that was suddenly thrust along every nerve in her body; as the vice clamped around her mind and pulled her into darkness.

"Teyla!"

As if calling for her across the vast depth of space itself she registered Sheppard's call, wanted to reach out to him – warn him – but her body was not her own, and in a sudden panic she realised that if the Queen were truly to gain control, she could make her hurt her friends, even kill them.

"John," she managed to frame his name in her mind, though she had no way to tell if the word made it from her lips. "Run!"

…_leave. me. alone…_

_=oh, how brave= =how brave= =brave= =brave= =brave=_

…_you will not prevail…_

_=I will crush you= =crush you= =crush= =crush= =crush=_

…_I will bring everything to ruin…_

_=you? my nemesis? rather I am yours= =I am yours= =yours= =yours= =yours=_

…_I do not think so…_

She gathered to herself all of the pain of her loss, her fear, the aching terrible guilt for all the harm she had caused in trying to do good. Every tear she had cried, every sleepless night in which she had mourned the loss of a friend, every ill emotion she could find inside of herself… filled herself with them and then, with all the strength she could muster pushed it back along the path of anger, along the agony the Queen sent, pushing on her all of the gathered human feelings and pains.

**

Sensation rushed upon the Queen and she stumbled away from the wall, to trip and fall against the dais. It had been unexpected; a strength she would not have believed possible, and she reeled from it, fighting the cry that rose up inside of her.

Trembling she brought her hand to the brooch that was pinned to the front of her dress. She must find this woman, this pretender to her throne, and feast on the audacity of spirit inside the woman.

Her fingers found the button on the brooch and the air was filled with the shrill call of the Hive's alarm.

**

"Ah, crap!" Sheppard spat as the alarm started to pierce the air. He took a step toward Teyla. "That's it. We're leaving."

He reached for Teyla's arm, meaning to drag her along with them, but was intercepted by Beckett.

"No, Colonel Sheppard, don't," the man said. "You can't interrupt her. God _knows_ what damage you'll do if you try."

"I'm not going to leave her here, Carson. Get out of my way," he ordered. He understood the dangers – that they could all too easily lose Teyla; the Queen could literally snuff her out of existence if her mind were that much stronger than Teyla's. Another possibility occurred to him, that they might suddenly find themselves facing Teyla in battle. Neither prospect filled him with warmth.

"I hear you, Doc, but we've got no other choice. They know we're here. Our cover is blown. We have to get Teyla out of here and this is the only way to—"

The musical whistle of Ronon's weapon sounded once, before Teyla became enveloped in the crackle of its energy.

**

As did every Wraith on the bridge, the Hive Second looked up as the shrill, two-tone warbling of the alarm split the otherwise quiet functionality of the Hive.

He reached out simultaneously to interface with the Hive, and toward the mind of the Queen. Pain and fear streamed back to him along those mental pathways, and filled him with a cold fury. Someone had dared to attack the Queen aboard her own Hive.

Quickly he stepped down from the console, and fixed a glare toward a nearby sub-commander, until he stepped up and took the Second's place.

"Recall the Darts, take us out of orbit," he ordered. He was aware that most of the worshipper population of the Hive was on the planet, gathering food and other resources they would need, but he could not risk that this was an attack from an outside source and leave the Hive in orbit where it would be vulnerable through a lack of manoeuvrability. "Prepare for battle. I must attend the Queen."

"But, Second, the Commander, he—"

A brief contact with that one had told the Hive Second all that he needed to know about the whereabouts and activities of the Commander, and of his inability to respond to the situation.

"Will not reach the Queen quickly," he snapped, resolved – once this was over – to speak to the Hive Commander and in no uncertain terms make clear his lack of confidence in the other Wraith. He did not wait to see if the sub-commander would follow his orders. The Queen needed him, and it was his duty to respond.

**

Teyla was only vaguely aware of rapid movement through the corridors of the Hive, or of the hands that held firmly around her arms, keeping her moving. She was still locked in a mental battle with the Queen – the one that Michael had warned her not to challenge – and she was fighting her fear, surrounding herself with as much bravado as she could muster.

_=there is nothing to be done= =to be done= =nothing= =nothing= =nothing= =I will find you and your friends. it is only a matter of time= =matter of time= =of time= =of time=_

…_time is something you do not have. already I can feel your control slipping; the Hive falling beyond your reach…_

It was true – at least in part. As Teyla had mentally assaulted the Queen with all of her own fear and pain and anguish, the Queen's control had slipped, allowing Teyla to gain a more secure presence along the neural pathway – more like a web – aboard the Hive. She was not foolish enough to expect it would last. The moment the Queen's Commander reached his Queen it would be over. Teyla knew that she had to cause as much damage as she could before that happened.

**

Sheppard risked a glance behind to where Beckett and Halling were leading an unresponsive Teyla along behind. She was murmuring, words he knew that she was projecting toward the Queen, with whom she was locked in a mental struggle and it did not sound as though she were winning.

"McKay," Ronon snapped as they came to a junction. "Which way?"

"Left," McKay answered. "I think."

Sheppard began to lead the way to the left, raising his weapon as he heard the approach of booted feet. Ronon did not immediately follow.

"You think?" the big man asked McKay.

"Yes," McKay answered, "I think. I think the left pathway is the shorter of the two to get us to the transporter we need to reach the corridor to the Dart Bay, I just—"

"Don't do this, McKay," Sheppard halted his steps and came back all but grabbing McKay by the front of his tac vest and pulling him closer. "We don't have time for games."

As if to underline what he was saying Teyla took in a huge gasping breath, as though she were drowning and had managed to surface only for a moment to take a breath.

"There _is_ no escape!" she said harshly.

"Teyla," Beckett cried, and shook the arm he held, "fight! You can't let her win."

Ronon raised his blaster again, flipping the setting as he did, but Sheppard caught his arm.

"No!" he said, and into Ronon's withering look said, "Much as I hate to say it, so long as she's keeping the Queen busy, the less we have to worry about too coordinated a defence of the pathway we need to take."

"In other words you're sacrificing Teyla to get us out of here," McKay accused.

"I have faith that Teyla's strong enough to hold," Sheppard rounded on McKay, raising his voice in anger. He didn't like the accusation – didn't like the truth that rang in the underlying sense of it.

"But what if she's not?" McKay asked, and the man's worry was clear in his voice.

"I have no way of pulling her out of this, John, if she loses control," Beckett added.

"But I do," Ronon growled and shook off Sheppard's restraining hand.

"Ronon, no!" This time Sheppard put himself between Ronon and Teyla. "She can do this, she—"

His words were cut off by the red burst of energy against the wall beside McKay, and the scientist's subsequent yelp. Sheppard didn't hesitate. He stepped forward past Ronon and opened fire on the approaching Wraith drones. He was much relieved when Ronon joined him in the fire fight.

"Go to the right, John," Teyla gasped as a lull came in the rattle of the P90. "The route is longer, but she heard what Rodney said and has gathered forces along the left hand path."

Sheppard's face split with an _I-told-you-so_ grin, and he began to push forward along the left hand corridor, sending a spray of bullets ahead of him, and stepping over the fallen Wraith.

"Good lass, Teyla," he heard Beckett's soft voice, before he and Ronon were once again fighting in close quarters against the Wraith.

**

"My Queen!"

The Hive Second quickened his already rapid pace as he reached the Queen's Chamber and found the Queen sprawled against the steps of her dais. Her face was contorted with agony and her eyes, open and staring, were rimmed red as though in great hunger.

"She is here!" the Queen rasped in answer.

The mental impression that the Hive Second received in that moment rocked him backwards with the sudden force, and the stream of pain that was being forced upon the Queen. He hissed loudly, shaking his head to drive it back from his own synapses; to erect defensive walls.

Warring duties tore at him from both sides. His duty to his Queen demanded he join his strength with hers in order to give her victory in this battle she fought. However, his duty to his Matriarch suggested a different course of action in the recognition of the mind he felt behind the fervent – if doomed – assault.

_The Hive Second growled softly, tightening his hold as the scientist's desperate anger increased, his strength, drawing energy from his situation, increasing as the Second's mind swept through thought after memory. There was an infant… a child that, not only had this one tried to shield from his searching, but which the very knowledge of its existence sat uneasily within the Queen's mind also._

_He was perfect. Barely hours old and already his mental awareness reached unerringly. Recognition – seeking the contact of a bond. The infant blinked his womb blue, gold flecked eyes, at first glance showing no other signs of his most special heritage…_

_Special… why?_

_The scientist calmed and moved away, turning to draw a tray of surgical equipment closer to the table, with which he would perform the genetic splice – releasing the terrified Athosian from his mental grasp._

_"What," Kanaan gasped, "What are you doing?"_

_"Enough!" the scientist cut off the man's questions and protest, picked up a nearby syringe, and quickly injected the contents into the side of his captive's neck._

_"So…" the Hive Second gasped as he struggled with the scientist now, minds locked in the bitterness of the refusal to surrender to the other, to fail. "He was the child's biological progenitor… but what of the mother…?"_

_The image was clear, a strong mind, with even more strength in the understanding and compassion it held… the beauty, the creamy, coffee tones of her skin, her brown hair, the bright, sharp eyes… but most of all the bond, the connection, the—_

"She is here!" the Queen cried again, and indecision faded. He had a duty to the Queen. Whatever damage he did in fulfilling that duty he would have to manage at a later time. He came to his knees beside the Queen and took a deep breath before entwining his mind with hers and pushing back along the line of pain… pushing hard.

But even as he did, along a shielded pathway that he wove through the pain to a receptive synapse he sent a warning touch.

_{this is not a fight you can win} {withdraw and live} {live} {live} {live} {live}_

**

The cry that came from Teyla's lips almost tore Sheppard in two and he turned in time to see her slump between Halling and Beckett. She would have fallen had they not been holding her. In the next second she gave another cry and this time her back arched as if she were trying to escape whatever torture the Wraith Queen was sending her way.

"Doc!" he appealed to Beckett, but the doctor shook his head.

"I told you already, there's nothing I can do. I don't have the right equipment here to—" Beckett said.

"The medical kit has a portable defib machine, doesn't it?" Sheppard said.

"And risk killing her?" Beckett protested, having to raise his voice over the sounds of Teyla's distress. "The portable system is nowhere near sensitive enough, and even if it were, outside of the infirmary, it's not a procedure I would ever consider. Not even for this!"

"We gotta do _something_!" McKay said, clearly distressed by this turn of events.

"I agree with you, Rodney, I do, but—"

"Whatever you're gonna do," Ronon interrupted, "do it fast. There are more drones heading this way."

Even as he spoke, he began firing his blaster along the corridor, advancing enough to draw the Wraith's attention away from the others. He flattened himself against the side wall of the corridor and continued firing, almost as if he thought he wouldn't be affected by the return fire.

Sheppard growled and began to reach into the pouch in the front of his tac vest as he moved toward what almost looked like a pillar at the side of a slight curve in the hallway.

"To hell with this," he snarled, "McKay, how many systems you think run their power or data stream through this junction?"

McKay blinked at him, then screwed his face up, looking as though he was trying to think in spite of Teyla's mental battle and the cries she still made. At least, Sheppard thought, it meant that she was fighting and hadn't simply given up.

"I don't know," McKay yelped, "A dozen… maybe more, why?"

"If I can disrupt enough of those systems – cause enough damage to the Hive – maybe I can distract the Queen and give Teyla a better chance."

"It's worth a try," Beckett said. "Her pulse is thready. I'm afraid she's becoming tachycardic."

Sheppard frowned, needing no more encouragement than those words from the doctor's mouth. He pulled out several blocks of C4 and started fixing them to the junction, from top to bottom of the pillar.

"Ronon!" he called to the big Satedan once he was done. It was a warning shout, and he held up the trigger as he called, and watched as understanding dawned on his friend's face. Then, turning back to the others he called out, "Back! Move back!"

As Beckett and McKay struggled with Teyla's writhing form, Ronon slipped past Sheppard, still firing his blaster with one hand, and with the other, as he bent down, he all but scooped the stricken Athosian up against his side, half carrying her, half dragging her along, with Beckett and McKay trailing behind.

"Do it, Sheppard," he growled.

"Fire in the hole!" Sheppard called out, more from habit than from the necessity to actually warn anyone before he flipped open the red covered trigger, and squeezed it.

In such close quarters the explosion was mind-numbing, but still it could not block out the sound of Teyla's answering scream.

**

The Queen's fingers tightened around the Hive Second's upper arm, heedless of the blades that stabbed through the muscle, almost deep enough to scrape against the bone. He bore the pain stoically, for he knew the Queen's was the greater as he too felt the damage to the Hive; the heat and the rending, tearing of the explosion.

_{my Queen… enough. we must see to the Hive.}_

_=she is h—=_

_{let her go, my Queen. she will soon enough be your prisoner. the Hive needs you.}_

It took a moment, but slowly the Queen became more rational, recognition of her duty to her Hive filled the space where the other had been and the link with the intruder was severed. He felt it happen.

As each of them returned to full awareness of themselves as separate from the other, the Hive Second realised the deck beneath him was tilted.

"The explosion has damaged our inertial dampening system," he said redundantly, but the Queen merely nodded.

"Assist me to my throne," she ordered, and pulled away her bloodied hand only when he lowered her to the moulded comfort of its surface.

_=I have injured you=_

_{it is nothing}_

"I must withdraw to the bridge," he said, somehow managing to maintain his calm in the face of the growing worries about the Hive. Any further attack now, if it came, could prove to be more dangerous for them all.

"No," she instructed, the word like a single shot from a blaster. "Leave the care of the Hive to my Commander. See to your injury. I may have need of you yet."

**

Teyla took a huge gasping breath, flailing with her arm until she found someone to hold on to and slowly, Carson's soothing voice became audible over the sound of her heart as its beat began to regulate itself; returning to normal.

"It's all right, Love," he said softly, "I've got you. You're safe."

"Carson," she gasped when she could draw a proper breath.

"It's all right, Teyla," John's voice, "take your time."

"There were… there," she said and opened her eyes. "There were two of them."

"Two Queens?" McKay yelped. "I thought that Queens didn't work together. I—"

Teyla shook her head, and he broke off as she said, "One Queen, and the mind of a male Wraith. Her commander I would think."

"Y'all right?" Ronon asked and for a moment she detected the familiar warmth that had always existed between them.

"Yes," she told him with a faint, but grateful smile. "I am all right."

"We need another way around, McKay," Sheppard said.

"I'm on it," McKay said, already pulling up the schematics on his tablet.

"We need to keep moving," Teyla said. "It will not keep her distracted for long."

**

The deck beneath Michael pitched suddenly, and beside the piercing screech of the Hive's alarm that tore at the middle of him and instinctively made him want to act, the sounds of an explosion drifted across his awareness. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, allowing himself to be warmed and strengthened for a moment by the knowledge that it was almost over.

As he struggled to right himself he caught sight of the hybrid woman that had been in attendance on him. She had shown him kindness; had tried to help him. Before he realised what he was doing, he reached out to her and closed his fingers around her wrist. She jumped, clearly not expecting the contact.

"You need to leave," he told her, almost softly.

"But—" she began to argue with him.

"Leave now," he said, more firmly this time. "For my people will show you little mercy."

He saw as a terrible understanding dawned over her. Watched her eyes widen and an expression of fear unfold on her face. He felt the brief stirring of her mental facilities, but it amounted to little that could be a threat; merely a flutter against the connection with the Hive, and through it, the Wraith. He released her then.

"Go," he said, and this time she obeyed, hurrying toward the door.

It was a struggle, but, gritting his teeth against the pain and the effort of it, Michael managed to drag himself, somewhat gracelessly, to his feet. If they were here, and from the explosion he could only conclude that they were, he would need to be ready.

Carefully, testing the bounds of his slow-to-heal faculties, he began to reach out…

**

_-execute- -execute- -execute-_

The touch was tentative – almost as though it were not there at all, and the hybrid knew in an instant that matters were much worse than he had thought.

With great care he bit down on the false tooth in his mouth, and quickly spat the enzyme against the organic material of the shackles that held him to the wall of the alcove in the scientist's lab.

Just as quickly he bit down on the second tooth, releasing the neutralising compound into his mouth to prevent the enzyme from poisoning him. He let the rush of it pass through him, and the flare of hope as the chains dissolved, and as they did, the cuffs around his wrists released.

"Now, Rissek," he said to himself, "let me see how accurate your targeting really is."

Freed from one part of his confinement, he approached the edge of the alcove, where the wall remained open, though he expected that at any moment the spiral would begin to close in on itself as it always did when he got too close.

Before he had left, the Wraith scientist had calibrated the sensors around the archway to activate the web-like bars should the hybrid draw near to them, a secondary security measure, should anyone have been foolish enough to release the hybrid from the shackles. However, the laboratory had not been occupied for weeks, and only the coming and going of the worshipper assigned by the scientist to bring him food had saved him from starvation. He sighed softly as he looked around at the sensors. Perhaps getting out of the laboratory _would_ prove to be a challenge and he could only hope it would not be an impossible one.

As soon as he approached the archway that had been the limit of his world for so long, he realised that something was different. Perhaps it was in the absence of the strange almost sentient brush against his mind that he had always felt in such close proximity to the archway, but whatever the cause, there was something that sent a shiver of relieved excitement along his spine.

Slowly, as he stopped walking, he reached out a hand, expecting that at any moment the bars would quickly spiral inward, preventing his escape. When nothing happened he took a tentative step closer – still nothing.

"Well, Rissek," he murmured, taking the final few steps that brought him under and then through the archway into the laboratory. He turned and faced into the prison he had occupied and couldn't help but chuckle. "It seems like your aim isn't so bad after all."

Though he knew that his task was not yet over, he felt a good deal more confident now than he had been when first the explosion had rocked the deck on the Hive. Taking a breath he opened his mind to the failing touch of the one that led them, knowing that if he could not find that one and get him to safety, all would have been for naught.

**

Standing felt as though heated spikes were being driven through every part of his body and it was by sheer force of will that he maintained his upright position, even if he did need to lean against the workbench.

With an unfamiliar awkwardness he closed his hand around the handle of the blade that lay atop there, no doubt left by the worshipper that had pulled the ugly looking weapon from one part of his body or another after one of the many torture sessions to which he had been subjected.

Anger flared within Michael, but it only served to sharpen his pain; to remind him of how much he had sacrificed to achieve this one, necessary step. Inevitably, such thoughts led to memories of deep brown eyes, once turned his way in empathy and once – though it seemed to be many more thousands of years ago than even _he_ had lived – they had been turned his way in trusting appeal.

_-Teyla-_

His mind whispered her name, and his injured soul answered with all the thoughts of anger and vengeance against those that had taken her from him. His grasp tightened around the knife and he knew that in spite of his condition he would unleash that storm on any that came through the laboratory door.

**

"Colonel Caldwell?"

"Major Marks?" Caldwell answered, "What have you got?"

"Sensors detected a hyperspace window forming six hundred klicks from our target Hive," Marks reported, watching the telemetry as it came in.

"Heads up!" Caldwell ordered, "Let's see it."

At his orders, Marks activated the HUD, and Caldwell could clearly see the warning traces of the forming spatial anomaly before, in the following moments, the window resolved, spitting out the additional Hive into theatre.

"Damn it!" Caldwell hissed.

The new Hive, though not quite as big as their target vessel, instantly took an aggressive stance, and it did not take Marks' warning, "Sir, they're powering weapons," to inform Caldwell of their intentions. He could see it merely in the attitude they had taken.

"Plot an intercept course," he snapped the order. He didn't want to risk compromising Sheppard's position by breaking radio silence, but neither could he leave them aboard the Hive to be fired on by the newcomers. A fire fight, while likely, was not high on his list of favourite things to do for the day. As the Daedalus began to move into theatre, he further ordered, "Shields up. Power all forward batteries."

**

Rissek tried not to let the size of the Hive intimidate him as it loomed large before him on the view screen. He took a deep breath, and trying to appear much calmer than he actually felt, gave his orders.

"Deploy the Darts," he said, "ready portside weapons. Initiate charging sequence on the Cascade Beam."

"Commander Rissek…" One of the other hybrids turned to him. "Sensors have detected an incoming craft. It's on an intercept course and is powering up weapons."

"What?" Rissek turned toward him, taking his eyes off the other Hive for a moment. "Where did they come from? Wraith?"

The hybrid checked his display again. "No. It's the Earth battle ship."

"And it is coming up on us fast," Rissek said, confirming the sensor readings at his own console. "Send out a second wave of Darts to slow them down. Continue to target the Hive. He will not accept failure or excuses for failure."

"Target is in range of our weapons," the hybrid at tactical confirmed, acknowledging his orders with a nod of his head. "Darts are away."

"Fire!" Rissek ordered, and was rewarded with the musically percussive sound of the weapons' ports firing one by one toward the Elder Queen's Hive. "How long before we have firing capability of the Cascade Beam?"

"A matter of minutes, Commander," the other hybrid assured him, "and we'll be ready to fire on your command."

"On _his_ command," Rissek corrected him, and pushed away the shiver of unease that came to him with the words he spoke – as close as they were to the Hive, and to the leader of their cause, he should be able to clearly feel the vicelike presence in his mind and yet… he felt nothing.

**

Their new pathway back to the Dart Bay took them almost all the way to the outer bulkheads of the Hive. They were the lesser travelled routes according to McKay, probably because they were so much longer. Bringing up the rear of their rapidly retreating team, Sheppard turned back to check that they were not being pursued, his steps slowed a little as he tried to walk backwards and keep moving with his companions both at the same time.

Instinct had him throw up his arms in front of his face as he began to turn back and the hallway in front of him became awash with light and noise and heat, in response to which he turned away.

For a moment he feared he had been too late to save his lungs from the searing heat. He could not catch his breath, but as his vision cleared, and he saw the rapidly developing membrane in the jagged edge of the corridor, he realised the reason for his difficulty breathing was decompression from the hull breach from the explosion that had buckled the hull in on itself.

"Oh, crap!" he gasped.

**

The wave of dizziness swept over Teyla at the same moment that the sound of an explosion came from close behind them, around the corner they had just turned. She watched as ahead of her, Ronon slid to a halt, and turned quickly to go back. He was calling for Sheppard with every step.

She turned to go with him, as worried for Sheppard as everyone clearly was, judging from the expressions on their faces, but as she turned the dizziness worsened, and she began to realise that, at least in part – due to her battle with the Queen – she was somehow still connected with the Wraith neural network aboard the Hive.

"Teyla?" Beckett came to her side as she leaned forward, to catch herself partly against the wall, and partly against her own trembling knee.

She shook her head. "I am all right," she said. "Go. John may need you."

She was pleased to see that Doctor Beckett did not hesitate, as worried as she was for her friend, and as frantic as Ronon's cries had become as he called for Sheppard.

Through the ringing in her ears she began to hear the sounds almost like a dull metal being cast aside. She could only imagine what devastation must be around the corner and started to prize herself from the wall.

"No, stay here," Halling told her protectively. "I will go to assist Ronon. It is important that you rest."

"I am fine, Halling." She protested.

"You are not," he told her firmly. "Doctor Beckett said that when the Queen had you in her grasp your heart did not beat as it should. Rest while you may, and if you _must_ do something, guard this corridor in case the Wraith also have become curious as to the damage to their ship."

He pointed behind her, and she flushed in embarrassment as she realised that his implied criticism was correct. Not one of them was watching the hallways for the coming of the Wraith.

**

"Sheppard!" Ronon called through the rubble that was blocking the hallway. Already he could see the growth of the restorative membrane across the breach in the hull, so he started pulling at some of the debris, trying to find a way through to his friend. "Sheppard, can you hear me?"

He growled softly and almost threw off the contact as a light touch settled onto his arm.

"What can I do?" Beckett asked him softly.

"Just be ready," he said as he continued to pull at the rubble.

"We will do this together," Halling's soft voice sounded close by, and the Athosian's hands closed around the other end of the large chunk of twisted biopolymer.

"All right, on three," Ronon said, and began to count. "One… two…"

He didn't make it to three.

The roar of a second explosion filled the corridor, from behind them – back towards where they had left Teyla, with sound and heat, and another rush of air proved a second hull breach had occurred.

"We have to find another way!" Beckett yelled over the diminishing sound in the aftermath of the explosion.

"Um… guys?" McKay's voice stopped Ronon cold. He spun around to see what it was the scientist was looking at, and his heart all but stopped. Where the corridor had been before, the blankness of a wall – obviously some kind of blast door –blocked the way out of the outer corridor, and blocked the way back to Teyla.

Ronon rounded on McKay. "You left her alone!"

"It wasn't my fault," McKay protested, backing up as Ronon advanced angrily toward him.

"Ronon!" Beckett called out, "Ronon, stop… at least she's safe."

"Which is more than can be said for any of us," Halling pointed out, pressing a hand to Ronon's chest as he came to put himself between the two men. "Our way is blocked from both sides and the shell of this Hive ship is damaged. _We _must find a way to cause that wall to open once more and for that we need Doctor McKay."

He was about to argue, Halling's reasonable voice only serving to fuel his anger, not to defuse it when the radio crackled into life as Sheppard broke radio silence.

"_This is Sheppard. There's a… a hull breach my side. Don't know about yours. You need to go ahead without me. I'll find another way around, do you copy?"_

Ronon tapped his headset mic.

"We hear you. Sheppard, we've had another breach this side. The Hive sealed off the corridor, some kind of bulkhead door it looks like."

"_And?_"

"Teyla's on the other side."

"_Ronon,_" Teyla's voice came through the radio, "_John, I am fine. I am safe and will find a way to meet you. Do not worry about me._"

"_Teyla, no_!" Sheppard ordered, but Ronon knew that his words would be in vain. He heard the determination in Teyla's voice.

"_We must be practical,_" she told him. "_For me to wait here while you all find a way to join me is more likely than not to result in the capture of all of us. It is not safe to remain in one place, we must keep moving._"

"I hate to say it," Beckett said softly, "but she has a point."

"_McKay, you think you can get that wall retracted again?"_

"I don't know," McKay answered, "I _won't_ know until I can get a look at it, and the air's getting awfully thin in here. Hard to think."

"_Ronon, is there another way around?_" Sheppard asked.

"I don't know, I—"

"Colonel Sheppard, it is Halling. Can you hear me?" Halling returned from examining the rubble beside the new breach to stand close beside Ronon.

"_I hear you, Halling, go ahead._"

"I believe the corridor is not entirely blocked and with a little effort we should be able to find a way through and take another junction." He looked at Ronon then and added, "With your help, Ronon."

"_It's worth a try,_" Sheppard agreed. "_Just do what you can to get out of there. We'll rendezvous in the Dart Bay._"

"Understood," Ronon growled softly.

"_I understand, John,_" Teyla said, "_and I shall meet you in the Dart Bay._"

**

Teyla took a deep breath as she deactivated her radio, and turned to leave the area. She knew she must be cautious; going further into the Hive, away from the outer bulkhead was safer from the explosions that kept rocking the deck beneath her feet, but it would be more populated, and after her encounter with the Queen she knew that if she were captured, there would be little chance of her survival.

With the residual link to the Hive neural pathway still accessible, it was an easier task to find which way she should go to reach the Dart Bay where they had left the Jumper, but one small niggling sense that she was giving up too soon walked with needle tipped fingers down her spine, turning her aside from the path to the Dart Bay even as the touch came as a ripple of her name within her mind.

_-Teyla- -Teyla- -Teyla- -Teyla- -Teyla-_

**

Still smarting from the proximity to the blast, Sheppard fell against the wall of the corridor as the ship rocked to the side again. He was running blind, having no clue as to which direction he should take to find the Dart Bay… but he trusted in blind faith and luck, for the most part, so was not worried. At least, not until that luck expired in the worst possible way.

Sheppard turned a corner in the corridor, feeling the quality of the sound that bounced back at him change and knowing even before he stepped past the corridor's threshold that he was moving into a junction in which many of the hallways met. In the same instant, so did the Wraith.

He was obviously one of the commanders of the Hive. The tallest Wraith that Sheppard had ever seen, taller even than Todd. His long, bone white hair was both shaved and braided tightly and hung about his shoulders, rustling slightly as he tilted his head; falling away to reveal the Wraith characters tattooed on the side of his neck. Instead of reaching for the blaster at his side, the tall Wraith reached for the long knife sheathed at his back.

"Crap!" Sheppard murmured.

"Lantean," the Wraith hissed.

"Yeah well," Sheppard said, trying to hide behind the lazy tone he so often used when dealing with the Wraith. "We all have our cross to bear, right?"

"Did you honestly believe you could walk through the fires of your own damnation…"

_{damnation} {damnation} {damnation} _

"…and not come face to face with the one that rules it?"

_{rules it} {rules it} {rules it}_

"Nah," Sheppard said in an equally lazy tone, though inside his mind was racing. Could this be the Hive Commander? If it was he was in deeper trouble than he'd originally thought. Circling away from the Wraith, as he began to move toward him, Sheppard continued, "See, you don't look like a _Lucifer_ to me."

"Defend yourself, Human!" the Wraith snapped, growling as he continued to circle with Sheppard.

"Name's Sheppard," Sheppard said. "John Sheppard. Pleased to meet you… Malcolm."

He paused a beat, and somehow managed to deflect the Wraith's opening gambit with the butt of his P90. It left his arms aching with the force of the blow.

"Yeah," he gasped. "You look like a _Malcolm_ to me!"


	4. Act 4

**Stargate Atlantis**

**No Way Back**

When All Else Seems Lost

Act 4

Proximity alarms wailed as the swarm of Darts converged on the Daedalus, firing weapons as they came. The smaller craft were so agile that very little of the battleship's returning fire was hitting its mark and the Darts' desired effect, Caldwell knew, were being served as he ordered, "Hard to port!" in order to avoid the blockade of Darts that were flying in formation.

"We're never going to get through at this rate!" Marks echoed his thoughts as he obeyed the order.

"My thoughts exactly, Major," Caldwell concurred. He keyed the comm. button on the arm of the command chair and ordered, "This is Caldwell, all fighter pilots report to your ships. You have a go for launch. Repeat, all three-oh-twos, you have a go!"

Deactivating the comm. Caldwell returned his attention to the HUD and the view screen beyond. He all but threw himself out of the chair to walk closer to the forward screen, watching as the flashes of weapons' fire exploding against their target Hive briefly lit the darkness of space as explosive decompressions gave fiery beasts a brief span of life.

"Why aren't they returning fire?" he mused aloud.

"Maybe they got caught with their pants down, Sir," Marks offered.

"The Wraith?" Caldwell turned round to face Marks as he spoke, peering at the other man through the reverse side of the HUD. "I don't think so. There has to be another reason."

"Well then maybe the first salvo… I dunno, maybe it damaged their weapons control or something," Marks said.

"Or maybe Sheppard and the others are in there causing more trouble than they said they were going to," Caldwell said darkly. He knew Sheppard and even though the mission briefing had been to get in, find Michael and get him out with a minimum of engagement, he knew that the flighty Lieutenant Colonel wouldn't pass up the opportunity to hurt the Wraith if he got the opportunity.

"Three-oh-twos are away, Colonel," Marks interrupted his thoughts, and with a nod he returned to the command chair, throwing himself into it with the same resigned force as he had left it.

"Resume course," he said, "Get us within weapons' range of those Hives."

Caldwell sighed. One of these days Sheppard was going to start following orders… and that would be the day that they would _all _be in trouble.

**

Sheppard rolled to a jarring halt against the wall at the side of the junction, and instantly rolled away as the long blade came down hard, cutting into the wall of the Hive where he had been only seconds before.

With barely a moment to catch his breath, Sheppard lashed out with one of the two short combat knives he held, slashing across the forearm that held the sword that had almost cleaved him in two. The Wraith hissed and pulled away, giving Sheppard the time to climb to his feet.

He backed away, taking a moment to mop at the blood trickling from his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, and spat to the side to rid his mouth of the coppery taste.

"Not so invincible after all," he gasped, trying to buy himself time, trying to find a way to get inside the defences of this all-too-controlled Wraith. If he could just get him to lose his focus, lose his temper maybe – make a mistake – then perhaps he stood a chance. Otherwise—

"Do you wish to talk, or fight, Human?" the Wraith he had named Malcolm hissed, coming at him again before he even had the chance to answer.

Blades clashed, both of Sheppard's crossed to deflect the heavy blow that Malcolm aimed his way. His arms screamed in protest, and as he deflected the blade to the side he had to duck the raking, clawed hand that swept across between them.

He turned, still half doubled over, following the direction he'd been leading the deflection, and as he started to come up, releasing Malcolm's long blade from where he had trapped it between his two knives, he threw his arms wide, leading with the sharp sides of the combat weapons. The action forced the Wraith back to avoid being sliced across the lower half of his chest.

For just a moment Sheppard thought that in doing so Malcolm gave a brief nod of respect for the move.

"You like that, huh?" he said, unable to help himself, though it was not through overconfidence in his abilities that he was bragging. "I'd like to say there's plenty more where that came from but, I'll be honest with you, I'd rather not have to fight at all… if it's all the same to you."

Obviously it wasn't.

Without answering, Malcolm came on again, long blade sweeping first one way and then the other, blindingly fast. The sparks from the clash of metal on metal, as Sheppard barely managed to catch the Wraith's steel a glancing blow in deflection, bit into his neck and shoulders, before he slipped and missed the block. The tip of Malcolm's sword sliced across his shoulder, and Sheppard growled in pain.

"Your mission is doomed, Human," Malcolm told him, expertly turning the hilt of his sword over the back of his hand and back into a ready grasp, and Sheppard couldn't help but agree with the assessment in that moment.

"Don't suppose," he gasped, still breathing hard against the pain, "you'd consider giving me an out clause?"

The tall Wraith tilted his head for a moment before he said softly, "I will grant you a moment…" he began, once more turning the sword full circle in his hands, "…to make your peace with whatever gods you recognise."

**

"Concentrate fire forward of the mid-section," Rissek ordered the hybrid at the tactical station. "Drive them away from the bridge and forward Dart Bay."

"Yes, Commander," the hybrid answered.

"Time to Cascade Beam readiness?" he asked.

The hybrid glanced at his console and the readings there. "Seventeen minutes and counting," he said calmly.

Rissek nodded. That would give him enough time to execute the steps he had planned in order to escape the Hive, so long as nothing had gone amiss in the meantime, and if it had, Rissek had no doubt that, as resourceful as The-one-that-led-them was, he would find another means of escape.

"The Earth ship?" he asked.

"They have launched fighters of their own," another hybrid answered.

"On screen," Rissek demanded, and watched as the screen resolved to show the dog-fight that was in progress between the Earth battleship and their current position, and the progress that the battleship was making toward them.

"Standby aft starboard batteries," he said. "Fire on them as soon as they come within range. I do not want them interfering with this."

"Understood, Commander," the hybrid at tactical answered, and then a moment later added, "Commander, the Elder Hive has launched a wave of Darts, inbound on our position."

"Launch a counter attack!" Rissek ordered, returning to his position at the central console. "Keep them busy."

"Second salvo is away – launching Darts."

Rissek turned his attention to the images, side by side on the forward view screen, falling into unity with the ship to keep them in the best position possible to achieve the multiple goaled strategies he had ordered from his crew.

He knew that even a single mistake could blow the whole plan, and while the addition of the Earth battleship was not something he had expected, contingencies _had_ been made for a battle in which multiple Hives would stand against them in their attack against the Elder Hive. He-that-led-them had been well aware that the Elder Queen was forming alliances among the Wraith, and it was entirely feasible that one or more of her subordinate Hives could have been in attendance on her. An additional independent foe was not so different.

Still, he could not help the warning shiver that ran along his spine as the Earth ship drew closer.

**

The deck rocked again as a second barrage of fire from the Hive and her Darts exploded against Daedalus' protective shields.

"Return fire!" Caldwell ordered the gunner.

"Aye, Sir," the gunner answered, beginning to make the necessary adjustments to the targeting of the forward batteries.

"Shields are holding at ninety percent," Marks confirmed.

"Very good," Caldwell acknowledged. "Any sign of Sheppard and the others? Communications?"

"Negative, Sir. Comm. chatter is from flight only," the communications officer answered.

Caldwell sighed, and under his breath said, "Come on, Sheppard, you've gotta know what's going on."

"The second Hive's firing on the target Hive," Marks' voice rang out, business-like across the bridge and the Daedalus rocked again with the impact of Wraith weapons' fire.

"Sir," the female officer at the reserve tactical station to the rear of the bridge spoke up suddenly. "Sensors are detecting an anomalous power reading aboard the second Hive."

"Marks?" Caldwell turned his head the way of his second, waiting for Marks to switch his readout.

"She's right, Sir," Marks said. "Oh no!"

"What is it, Major?" Caldwell snapped.

"I think we've seen something like this before," Marks said, sending his display to the HUD.

Caldwell frowned deeply as he realised what he was looking at. "How long before they achieve optimum power?"

"Based on previous telemetry," Marks said, and Caldwell could almost hear his mind whirling through the calculation. "I'd say they have less than eighteen minutes, give or take."

"Set a countdown," Caldwell ordered, "When it gets within ten minutes we're breaking radio silence. If it is what I think it is, we have to get Sheppard and his team out of there."

As if in protest of his plan, as the deck rocked again, the fizz of a minor explosion sounded in the far corner of the bridge. Even before Caldwell could ask the question Marks answered.

"Shields at eighty percent. Still holding."

**

For some reason, turning on the light on the top of the borrowed P90 made Teyla feel more secure as she inched her way along the corridor, cautiously brushing the edges of the Hive mind to try and find her way. She was not normally afraid of the dark.

She steadied herself as the deck rocked beneath her feet, her hand against the wall. Footfalls, booted but not heavy enough to be Wraith, were getting closer, and she pushed away from the wall to bring both hands to the weapon she carried.

She had no real desire to fire the weapon, and would have preferred to have brought weapons of her own – her Bantu sticks perhaps – but John had insisted on the 'added punch,' as he called it, of the P90s. It seemed to her that he had forgotten the many beatings she had given to him at the end of her Bantus.

Settling herself over her weapon, she spun to the side, turning the bend in the corridor with the action. Her light reflected from the nearby figure, as she had suspected, not a Wraith. She halted, her finger partly tightened on the trigger.

"Do not shoot!" he said, a plea. His voice was strong, but it was a plea none the less.

It wasn't this that stopped her, however, but the familiar features that marked him as one of Michael's hybrids. Even so she demanded softly, "Give me a reason!"

"I can help you," his answer was automatic, too fast for her liking.

"Help me find my way to greater trouble?" she suggested, not without a little sarcasm.

"I desire to escape this place as much as I suspect is your goal," he answered, "Two may watch one another's backs."

"I have no reason to trust you," she snapped.

"No, you do not, but—"

She tightened her grip on the P90 as he took a step forward, cutting him off.

"I said… give me a reason," she growled.

The sound of an explosion close by reminded her of the growing peril. She could feel it in the undercurrent of the Hive too – not quite fear, but a certain unrest and an increase in activity.

"It is my people," the hybrid told her.

Teyla's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she straightened up a little, though her grip on the weapon did not lessen.

"_Your_ people?" she demanded.

The hybrid shrugged. "Those that serve _The Cause_," he said, correcting himself.

"And how is that served by mounting an attack against this Hive?" She straightened as she asked the question, a shiver of hope running along her spine. She tilted her head, and fixed the hybrid with a harshly demanding look.

"I could demand the same of you?" he answered obstinately. "In what way is the agenda of the Atlanteans served by infiltrating this Hive."

She suddenly stepped closer, pressing the barrel of the P90 under his chin, pinning him to the wall with the weapon and her body weight combined. Something in her had snapped, the fragile string of hope holding her sanity as a shield against her building fear crumbled. She had to know.

"Answer me!" she cried.

"Every moment we stand, striving with one another, like enemy generals brings us one step closer to the destruction of us _all,_" he said, "Is that what you want? Is that why you are here?"

"What is the plan?" she demanded, "How did you get here?"

She made a leap in the dark, desperation rising in her small frame and lending her strength. If Michael's people were here, if this hybrid was here, speaking of destruction, implying that time was at a premium, it lent only credence to the fact that Michael _was_ a prisoner aboard this Hive. She added pressure to the confining touch of the P90 against the hybrid's chin.

He shook his head. "I know only my part in it," he said.

"Tell me," she demanded, but again he shook his head.

"Put down the gun, Teyla," he told her softly, and she was not at all surprised by his use of her name.

**

The Wraith's hand connected with his shoulder and Sheppard left the floor once more, spinning in the air as he sailed toward the bulkhead. He tensed, anticipating the impact; awaiting the pain.

There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt and he was bleeding from the many slices and cuts that Malcolm had inflicted during the course of their fight, but the Wraith had long since abandoned his sword in favour of fighting bare handed against Sheppard and his two short blades and Sheppard knew then that Malcolm was playing with him, much as a cat might play with a mouse before making the kill.

This was a fight he wasn't going to win – not unless he got lucky… real lucky, he thought as the impact with the bulkhead drove out what air he had left in his already aching lungs and he slid to the floor. Malcolm came at him almost as soon as he landed.

As the Wraith drew near, Sheppard lashed out weakly with the blade he still somehow held. He caught a glancing blow against the side of Malcolm's hand.

"Finish this, you sorry son-of-a-bitch," Sheppard gasped, forcing his legs under him and sliding his back up the wall in support. He raised both blades between them, his hands trembling.

"Oh, but it has been so long since I have pitted myself against one of your kind," Malcolm purred, tilting his head, he spread his arms, palms open toward Sheppard, and blood from the slide in the side of his hand fell like some dark stream toward the deck, already slick with Sheppard's own.

"Screw you!" Sheppard spat, sliding to the side, trying to put some distance between him and the Wraith, but Malcolm moved with him, sidestepping, not changing the attitude of invitation he had made by opening his arms, as if offering some kind of deadly embrace.

"Interesting," Malcolm hissed. "Your anger drives you toward vulgarity, a demonstration, perhaps, of your status among males of your kind. Are you… an alpha among your own… John. Sheppard? Come then – let us finish this."

The fact that Malcolm was trying to psychoanalyse him pushed Sheppard beyond the limits. Adrenaline rushed through his body and the pain receded as his anger lent him strength. Growling, he pushed himself away from the wall with no warning, and just rushed at the Wraith. His blade led the way, and he turned it in his hand as he drew closer, raking downwards with all the force he could muster and leaving the knife embedded in the left side of Malcolm's chest, up beside where his collar bone would be – if Wraith even _had_ collar bones, he thought grimly – as the force of the impact between the two of them spun the Wraith.

Malcolm threw back his head and roared.

"So be it, Human!" he snarled on the end of the roar, and came again at Sheppard, clawed fingers outstretched, and Sheppard refused to give in to the thought that these may well be the last moments of his life.

**

McKay couldn't help but think how strange it was that fear sharpened his mind and hard on the heels of that thought, he wondered what one called a genius whose mental capacity exceeded that of the ordinary genius by at least three times the norm. He had so far unerringly led them from their precarious position in the outer corridors of the Hive ship along less travelled and safer routes toward the forward Dart Bay where they had left the Jumper.

Their journey hadn't been without the odd fire fight and once or twice they'd been embroiled in close quarters combat with small pockets of Wraith drones, but Ronon and Halling – he had been surprised by the tall Athosian – had quickly taken care of the attacking Wraith.

He was about to comment on his revelations about his own mental agility under pressure when he all but collided with Halling and was forced to look up from the tablet.

"McKay!" Ronon hissed.

They'd reached another junction in the corridors, one that led three ways from their current position, and beyond the junction was a misty darkness that was not so easy to penetrate.

"One second," he said quietly, lowering his gaze to the tablet, and then looked up again, an expression of incredulity on his face, and a laugh teetering on the edge of his near hysteria as he proclaimed, "I did it! We just go straight ahead. The corridor opens out into the Dart Bay."

"Well done, Rodney," Beckett murmured quietly from behind Ronon on the other side of the corridor.

"Yeah," Ronon rumbled, "Nice going, McKay."

"Well," he said with the beginnings of a modest tone in his voice, at least – modest for him – "Anyone could have—actually, scratch that, anyone couldn't have, and the fact that I _did_ just goes to show how much of a genius I am even _before_ my synapses are pushed beyond the limit by adrenalin and the other effects of fear and—"

"Come on!" Ronon's hand closed around his bicep and he was pulled from the relative safety of sheltering against the wall. Something in the look on the Satedan's face made him slip the computer tablet back into its sheath on his back and close his trembling hands around the P90 that hung from its strap in front of him.

"Okay," he squeaked, then cleared his throat to repeat himself in a more manly fashion. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Stay behind me," Ronon ordered, and then moved off, leading the way along the corridor McKay had indicated they should take.

McKay followed, growing more and more nervous with each step as it occurred to him that it had been easy, thus far, for them to avoid the Wraith, but now, with the attack against the Hive, the Dart Bay was likely to be one of the busiest places.

There was little warning, just the shadow that fell across him as the shape of a Wraith drone seemed to appear from nowhere right in front of him. Reflex had him squeeze the trigger of the P90. At least the sound of gunfire masked his scream, and the force of the rounds hitting the Wraith, at such close quarters, drove it backwards. The high pitched trill of Ronon's blaster finished the process McKay had begun, making a smoking mess of the space where the drone's head had been.

"You all right?" Ronon asked, turning to McKay, but the scientist's answer was to raise the P90 again, aiming past Ronon into the Dart Bay, in the same moment that Halling cried out a warning.

"We are discovered!" Halling called out, starting to move toward the drones heading their way.

Much to McKay's relief, Ronon turned back, and the trilling of his blaster began to fill the air, filling the small spaces left by the deafening, bone shaking rattle of his P90 as McKay pulled the trigger once more.

They were outnumbered, but their saving grace was that the drones had been heading for the Darts, pilots to join the battle being raged out in vacuum outside the Hive, so they were unarmed. It didn't halt their advance though, and even with the automatic weapons' fire coming from both McKay and Beckett, and Ronon's blaster, Halling was soon fighting for his life against the stronger Wraith.

"McKay! Go!" Ronon's voice cut above the cacophony of the battle. "We can't get pinned here – go!"

"But Halling—" McKay yelled in answer.

"Leave Halling to me," Ronon growled, already moving the Athosian's way, not stopping the onslaught of his blaster as he moved. "Beckett, go!"

Beckett started to move, and McKay moved with him, both men firing their weapons to keep the path between them and the transporter clear. Neither was truly adept with the weapons, but necessity had given both more than a passing familiarity with their use – enough to be effective in achieving their goal.

"Thank God!" McKay gasped as his back hit the far wall of the alcove that was the transporter. Just a few moments more and they'd be up to the relative safety of the Jumper.

"I'll second that, Rodney," Beckett's voice came softly from beside him.

McKay turned a brief smile his friend's way, but as he turned back, the smile faded as cold, hard dread settled into the pit of his stomach, and before he could call a warning, another group of Wraith emerged into the Dart Bay, and these were no drones, but sub-commanders and they were armed.

Everything slowed down; as if time itself were dilating to show, step by sordid step, the moment that everything went wrong. The leading sub-commander raised his weapon, and high sound warbled, distorted, through the air. The flash at the muzzle of the Wraith blaster he held was like the opening of some exotic, but deadly flower, spitting its venom into the almost safety of space that Ronon and Halling had made for themselves.

Ronon stumbled, as if pushed from behind by the one remaining drone that Halling still fought. The stumble became a fall as the big man toppled forward, a spray of red erupting in the space beside and before him.

"Ronon!" McKay called out, at the last minute remembering the weapon in his hands as Ronon's own skittered to a halt at his feet. He raised the P90, and moving forward, fired the weapon, crying out as if crazed as time resumed its rapid downhill charge.

The last drone down, and the other Wraith pinned down by his frantic covering fire, McKay saw Halling duck down to Ronon's side and in the next minute heard his frantic call.

"Doctor Beckett!"

McKay advanced another step, praying that his ammunition would hold; that the gun wouldn't jam… anything to keep them safe… let them get Ronon back to his feet again. They were behind him now and he couldn't see what was going on, not and keep a reasonable aim on the Wraith coming against them.

"Rodney, come on!" Beckett's voice, brittle with worry barely reached him, and he glanced around to see that he and Halling had all but dragged the too-immobile Satedan into the transporter alcove. He began to back toward them, almost tripping over Ronon's outstretched legs as he reached them, and still firing the weapon with one hand, keyed the controls with the other, the grim scene, of which he was a part, dissolving momentarily around him.

**

Arms aching from holding back yet another well aimed blow, Sheppard ducked beneath Malcolm's reach, letting his own fist fly, ineffectually against the Wraith's leather clad belly.

The hiss of static just before his radio activated distracted him and he moved right into the powerful backhander just as Malcolm lashed out his way. He staggered back, but managed to keep to his feet. Blood trickled from the gash on his forehead where the Wraith's finger guards had torn his skin. He shook his head to try and clear his vision.

"_Sheppard, Teyla, this is Beckett, Ronon's down, I need to get him to the better medical facilities. Where the hell _are_ you?_"

"_Carson, I am on my way_." Teyla's voice sounded wary, guarded, even through the radio. Something in the tone of it made Sheppard think she was in trouble of some kind. Coupled with Beckett's call this was not the news he wanted to hear. He managed to get a hand up to his own earpiece to key the mic.

"Beckett, this is Sheppard," he circled as Malcolm stepped toward him, mantled in an attitude of threat. The Wraith would not allow this conversation to continue for long. "If I'm not with you in ten, take off without me. Teyla, rendezvous with the others as soon as you can, that's an—"

He was forced to break off as he reached the limit of the time Malcolm was prepared to allow him and he had to concentrate all of his efforts on avoiding the all-too-sharp claws and finger armour both.

"_John_?" Teyla's voice came back at him, and when he did not answer she repeated more formally, "_Colonel Sheppard, please respond_."

It twisted his gut in an agony of remembrance, and in spite of himself he keyed his mic again and said, in tired resignation, "Just like old times…"

"_I am coming to_ you," Teyla snapped.

"No!" Sheppard told her. "You have your orders. Rendezvous with Beckett and the others. Sheppard out!"

Sheppard's hand snapped upward, his wrist jarred with the impact of deflecting the attack that Malcolm aimed his way, and stepped inside the Wraith's reach to give himself a moment's respite.

Malcolm tried to back up, so Sheppard grabbed at the collar of his coat, and using energy reserves from deep inside launched himself from the ground, his head connecting hard against the Wraith's.

The move stunned him, and he dropped away, stumbling backwards and coming to one knee, but Malcolm had clearly not anticipated such a bold attack, and momentarily surprised, did not press the advantage Sheppard's daring had delivered into his hands.

The Wraith tilted his head first one way, and then the other, hissing softly in the back of his throat, and Sheppard felt momentarily stifled by the anger that swelled to fill the junction in which they fought.

"You should have allowed her to come," he said, the menace dripping from every syllable he spoke.

_{allowed her to come} {to come} {to come} {to come} {to come} {to come}_

"And that's precisely," Sheppard answered as his head slowly started to clear, "why I didn't."

**

"Orders?" the hybrid purred the word he'd heard come from the earpiece in Teyla's ear.

"Colonel Sheppard and the others came here because I asked it of them," Teyla snapped, putting extra pressure on the barrel of the gun beneath his chin. "Do not _try _to turn me against them. You have not the capability!"

"I don't doubt it," the hybrid answered. "Though I do question why this colonel thinks that doing so gives him the right to give you orders."

"I was once a member of his team," Teyla answered, and he couldn't help but think she sounded defensive. "He is my friend."

"And so you—"

He would never again understand what it was that alerted him to the danger, but in the second before the first of the explosions began to ripple through the Hive toward them, a shiver of danger passed down his spine.

In that moment he ceased to acquiesce to Teyla's restraining pressure, and lashed out at the barrel of the P90 she pressed beneath his chin, far more quickly than she could possibly react to squeeze the trigger.

Teyla gasped, and to her credit, recovered enough from the surprise to attempt to fight back. He threw himself against her, pumping his legs to move them both across the room from where they had been standing; wrapping himself around her and pushing her down in the lee of the wall as the flames from the explosion rolled over them.

As soon as he felt the heat dissipate, he yelled above the roaring of the air as it sped past them, escaping into the cold and dark of space, "We have to make it to the other side of the safe bulkheads… as soon as the Hive registers the breach it'll seal the area."

"I have experienced this," Teyla yelled back, pushing at him to try and free herself from his restraining grasp.

"Stay low," he instructed, leaning up enough that she could wriggle from beneath him, before he propelled her in the correct direction. "This way…"

**

Even as she started to move, propelled along by the hybrid, who still seemed to be shielding her from the worst of the sudden storm inside the corridor, Teyla felt it becoming more and more difficult to breathe.

He had saved her life. She had no doubt of that, and that alone filled her mind with questions, most of all, _why_? Her stomach turned over in answer, and she felt against the palms of her hands, not the cold, semi-organic hardness of the Hive floor, but the almost warm, soft leather that she had held against her in the empty cell – it seemed like days ago.

"Keep moving. We haven't long!" the hybrid called out. She hadn't even realised she'd stopped.

Her mind had slowed. Thoughts were becoming difficult and she fought the arm that wrapped around her, dizzy at the sensation of movement until suddenly she was spinning… over and over… a face blurring over her; under her; over her again. She closed her eyes… A sound – rocks falling rumbled in her mind; deafening… suffocating as their heavy weight settled over her…

Then the noise was gone, nothing but silence.

**

Sheppard landed hard, fighting the darkness that gathered at the edges of his vision, gasping for breath and all but choking on the blood in his mouth and nose. The deck bucked beneath him, throwing him against the wall again and a second time as the sound of explosions rumbled through the Hive.

Malcolm started toward him, not even waiting this time, as all the others, for Sheppard to at least try and pull himself to some semblance of upright. Sheppard closed his eyes and stopped even trying… resigned. It came to everyone in the end, and with the pain he was in… the unlikelihood of his ever finding a way off the Hive… now might be a good time.

The shrill desperate quality of the sound that split the air grabbed at his gut and twisted hard. He moaned, barely recognising the sound for what it was. He knew only that the blow he expected, or the fire of being fed upon, did not come.

**

Malcolm froze as the Queen's alarm sounded; half way to the Lantean, but this was a summons he could not ignore. Growling softly in frustration he mentally summoned drones to his location to take care of the intruder; deliver him to a holding cell, and turning on his heel all but sprinted toward the Queen's chambers.

As he moved he reached out to the Hive, to the living mind at its core, pushing his way past poorly erected shields the one that commanded had erected to keep the Hive's innermost secrets for his own, to be shared only by the Queen.

_{Status Report}_

The demand was soft, but a demand none the less, and it was answered without hesitations. He did not receive the answers he had hoped to hear. Critical systems were failing and the Hive was fighting to switch key power nodes to keep weapons and shields online.

There was no more time.

Reaching the Queen's Chamber he found her pacing as if in anguish or great pain. He knew she would be both. He addressed her frightened, cowering handmaidens, pushing his will on them most firmly.

"Gather the Queen's effects and follow me."

Without waiting to see if they would obey, Malcolm crossed the chamber to intercept the Queen. Now was not the time for protocol, and when she growled at him and snatched her arm away as his fingers closed around her elbow, he hissed at her until she acquiesced.

_{I must take you to safety, My Queen}_

**

Slowly, Teyla became aware of being dragged more upright and of something hard at her back. She snatched in deep lungfuls of air until she ached from it.

"Slowly," the voice drifted into her awareness. "Try to breathe slowly."

There were hands around her arms and she tried to shake them off as her memory slowly cleared and she remembered the explosion, the decompression and the vague sensation of being pulled to safety.

"Where are we?" she demanded, opening her eyes and pushed harder still at the hybrid until he moved away, and then she told him, still somewhat breathlessly, "I am all right."

"We have not moved far," he said. "Just until we reached the space the Hive shut off from the damaged areas."

She nodded then, and looking at him curiously said, "You saved my life. Why?"

"Why would I allow you to die?"

His question did not begin to answer her own and she shook her head, saying, "I held you at gunpoint, threatened you – you had no reason to believe I would allow you to live."

He shrugged a little. "I had no reason to believe you would _not_ either. You wish to find a way to reach one of the Dart Bays. I could lead you there. We could be allies."

"And I have no reason to trust that you would do that, and not lead me into further difficulties," she said, climbing to her feet.

"Aside from the fact that I just saved your life," he said and he got to his feet, stepping forward again.

"Aside from that," Teyla answered, and pointedly stepped away.

"Then we are at a stalemate," he said, and she could hear the almost regret; the _almost_ sarcasm in his voice.

"Not quite," she answered, tilting her head as her hand found its way to the handgun concealed in the holster taped to the small of her back. She pulled back the slider and aimed the gun unwaveringly in the hybrid's direction as she finished calmly, "Now, help me to find a way back to Colonel Sheppard."

The hybrid raised an eyebrow, looking almost disappointed, and then he turned and began to lead the way along the corridor. With one last glance around, Teyla followed.

**

"Colonel Caldwell," the female officer at the auxiliary communications station to the rear of the bridge called over to him. He didn't like the tone in her voice as she spoke his name and turned quickly in the chair to encourage her to give him the news. "I'm picking up comm. chatter on our frequencies coming from the Hive. It's not good, Sir."

"Patch me in," Caldwell snapped, and when she nodded, keyed the switch on the arm of the chair. "Colonel Sheppard, this is _Daedalus_, do you copy?"

The silence that came in answer ran a river of ice over him as a million possibilities, all of them bad, flowed through his mind.

"Colonel Sheppard," he repeated, "Anyone on the away team, this is _Daedalus_. Please respond."

For a moment there was static, and then the anxious voice of Doctor Beckett sounded across the bridge.

"_Colonel, this is Beckett. I hear you_."

"Doctor, what's your status?" Caldwell asked solemnly.

"_Ronon is down. We managed to get him to the Jumper and are waiting on Colonel Sheppard and Teyla before we can leave. I haven't been able to raise Sheppard but Teyla reports she's en route_."

"Do you need assistance?"

"_To be honest, the faster I can get Ronon to medical facilities, the happier I'll be_." Beckett said. "_I don't suppose there's any way you could bring the Daedalus within beaming distance?_"

"Doctor, we're having a hard time getting anywhere right now," Caldwell answered, "An enemy Hive came out of hyperspace a little while ago, and they're determined to keep us from interfering."

"_I understand_." Beckett sounded resigned.

"I'll get as close as I can, Doctor, but you may have to meet us half way," Caldwell hated to let the team down like this, but _Daedalus_ was increasingly more pinned down by the incoming waves of Darts. He glanced at Marks. "Do what you can to take us in, Major."

"Aye, Sir." Marks answered, his hands beginning to move rapidly over the console.

"Doctor Beckett, we're doing what we can out here," Caldwell said, "Keep trying to raise Sheppard, and good luck."

"_Thank you, Colonel. I think we're going to need it_." Beckett's tone was grim. "_Beckett out._"

Caldwell sighed, and turned his attention back to the HUD, demanding a status report from all hands. It wasn't going to be easy, but he'd be damned if he was going to let a few Wraith Darts stand between his ship, and helping the people he'd been assigned to protect.

Even so, he couldn't help getting a bad feeling, one of those feelings that told you the safest and most sensible thing to do would be to exercise the better part of valour and effect an immediate retreat.

"All right, Marks," he said, metaphorically thumbing his nose at the feelings. "Take us in."

**

Sheppard knew he couldn't keep lying there. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that though the Wraith that he'd dubbed _Malcolm_ had gone, called away by the alarm still sounding its shrill warble through the Hive, there would be other Wraith, and they would probably be coming to finish what Malcolm had started.

Hard on the heels of that thought, he became aware of a voice sounding shrill and insistent in his ear, and groaning in added pain as he moved, he raised his hand to key his mic, and rolled to his hands and knees, slowly, trying to find his feet.

"Sheppard," he gasped.

"_Thank God_!" McKay's voice pounded into his ear. "_We've been trying to reach you for ages._"

"What's going on, Rodney?" he forced his mouth to form the words. "I thought I told you to get the hell out of here."

"_You did, but Beckett managed to get Ronon stabilised, and we're still waiting on Teyla, so… anyway, we thought we should let you know, you have more time._"

"Damn it, McKay," he said, and finally managed to get his feet under him, though he stumbled around as though he'd had several too many glasses of cheap beer. "When will you learn to follow orders?"

"_When _you_ do_!" McKay answered. "_Just… get your ass back here, Sheppard. We're not leaving without you…or Teyla. She said she was on her way, but there's still no sign._"

"I think I have an idea," Sheppard said darkly. "Just… prep the Jumper for flight. I'll be right with you."

"_Will do_." McKay answered, the stress more than clear in his voice. "_McKay out._"

Sheppard started to take his still stumbling, but strengthening steps, toward the corridor he believed led in the right direction. As he did he keyed his mic again.

"Teyla, this is Sheppard…"

**

"_Respond_."

Teyla tilted her head with a sigh as the call came in on her radio. She gave consideration to not answering, but knew that he would not give up until she had and she knew from his tone the words that would come. Eventually she keyed the mic.

"I am here, John," she said.

"_Teyla, listen to me_." His voice was urgent and earnest, and she heard both physical and emotional pain in the tone. It was small comfort to her that it hurt for him to say what he did. "_I know what you're doing, but your Intel was wrong. He's _not_ here and you need to get back to the Jumper_."

"I was on my way," she told him, "but my route was compromised by another explosion, and by necessity to help _you_."

"_I told you: forget about me. Get to the Jumper – whatever way you have to go. Help Ronon_."

"That was uncalled for, John," she said, and though she was angry that he would say such a thing, she could muster only sadness.

**

Sheppard heard the sorrow in her voice and knew he had crossed yet another line and would find it hard to regain what was lost by it. As much as it hurt him to continue in the same vein, sometimes – especially, it seemed, with Teyla – it had to come down to cold, hard-to-stomach facts in order to be kind.

"Uncalled for or not," he said, "the truth of the matter is that no matter what else is going on, Ronon needs us now more than anything else."

"_I understand that, John_," she said, and this time he heard the beginning of angry resentment. "_And I am trying – trying to do my best to serve every demand placed upon me_."

"That you place on yourself," he corrected her. "Teyla, we don't have _time_ for this."

"_On that I will agree_," she said. "_I will meet with you in the Jumper. Teyla out."_

He closed his mouth, backing away from the retort he had been about to make, and sighing, concentrated his _own_ efforts on reaching the Dart Bay.

**

"He is wrong," the hybrid said softly from up ahead and by way of explanation added, "your friend – to say he is not here."

Hearing the words, everything in Teyla drained toward her boots and the niggling, tense silence in her head was filled with the sound of her own pulse suddenly hammering like some sculptor against her emotions. As the hybrid glanced at her, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pressed hard with her weapon against his chest.

"Where is he?" she demanded, stepping up until she could stare right into his pale eyes.

"The worshippers that brought my food spoke of a prisoner that was being held in a laboratory suite not far from the Queen's chambers," he said. "He _is_ that prisoner, Teyla. When the attack began I heard his command to execute his plan to get him off this Hive."

"His _plan_?" Teyla echoed, and frowned in confusion.

"You do not imagine that he would not have designed a way to escape captivity at the hands of the Wraith," the hybrid admonished softly. "But he will need our help."

Teyla started to answer, trying to make sense of the many feelings that were beating on her from every side. Ronon was hurt, and as hostile as he'd been to her since she returned to ask for their help, she could not see him suffer, or worse. She loved him as she would have loved a brother, and he, along with her friends, needed her to join them before they would leave the Hive. If she did not, she would endanger them all. On the other hand, Michael was her only link to her son and whatever else – whatever other feelings surfaced when she considered the Wraith-Human hybrid – she could not ignore that, would not abandon her child.

"Do you know the way?" she asked the hybrid, stepping back and putting up the gun.

The hybrid nodded. "It will not be hard to find."

Teyla nodded, uncomfortable, but knowing she had no choice but to trust the hybrid to lead her to the object of her search; of the entire dangerous mission, a danger only underlined as the Hive's deck rocked once more beneath her feet, unbalancing her and throwing her against the bulkhead even as the hybrid reached out to try and steady her.

"We must go," she told him, pushing away from the wall again.

"This way," he said as he nodded his agreement.

As they began to move, all the while fighting the unsteady Hive that shook and writhed as if in pain, she keyed the button on her earpiece.

"Doctor Beckett, this is Teyla," she said urgently, turning with the hybrid to take a corridor that ran tangentially to the one they had been taking. "I will not make it to you in time. You must leave without me. Take Ronon to safety."

"_Teyla_!"

It was Sheppard's voice that came back, growling, but full of frustrated concern.

**

Sheppard stumbled against the side of the open rear hatch as he hurried up the ramp and into the back of the Jumper. He waved Halling away as the Athosian came to help him.

"_I am sorry, John_," Teyla's voice sounded in his ear. In her voice he could hear a mixture of sadness and resolve, but also fear. "_There is no other way_."

"_Find_ a way," he insisted. "I won't leave you here, Teyla. Not chasing shadows."

"_I will find an alternate means of escaping the Hive_," she told him, sounding almost desperate. "_Please, go. Save Ronon_."

He would have argued, but as he opened his mouth to answer her; to put to her all the reasons he wasn't about to turn tail and run when he could get them _all_ safely off the Hive if only she would do as she was told and find a way to reach them, when Beckett's quiet but urgent call cut across the rear Jumper compartment.

"I need some help here, please," he said, "He's crashing! Colonel Sheppard, she's right. She's out of time. We have to go now, or we're going to lose him."

Sheppard turned to watch in horror as Beckett flipped the switch on the portable defibrillator and the whine of the small machine began to build.

"I _won't_ make a choice between Teyla and Ronon," Sheppard snarled.

"You're not," Beckett snapped, his voice choppy as he started compressions while the machine charged. "Teyla made that choice herself."

Still Sheppard did not move. He watched, in horrified fascination, Beckett's efforts to keep Ronon alive.

"Colonel Sheppard!"

The sharp, desperate shout from the doctor broke the fragile spell that held him, caught between two paths equally as evil in his own mind. He pushed away from the open ramp, slapping the button to close the rear door as he did, throwing himself into the decision the situation had forced on him as he hurried to the cockpit.

"Go and help Beckett," he ordered, slapping McKay on the shoulder, the sounds from around him blurring into one long scream of anguish.

"Clear."

The sound of the defibrillator firing. Ronon's body falling again to the Jumper's bench.

"Oh my God, there's so much blood!" McKay's voice.

"Charging!" Beckett's. "Rodney, I need you to squeeze the bag to give him air."

"Now?"

"Now."

"Colonel Caldwell, this is Sheppard," Sheppard said, falsely and fatally calm. "We're on our way out. Requesting covering fire."

"_Negative, Sheppard_," Caldwell's voice sounded strained. "_We're still not within range. You're gonna need to come out cloaked or these Wraith bastards are going to take you out._"

"Understood," he said and coaxed the Jumper into flight, his mind still registering the desperate struggle from the rear compartment.

"Stand clear," Beckett called, and the defibrillator fired again. "Damn it, don't _do_ this, Ronon. Bag him, Rodney."

"Now?"

"Doctor Beckett," Halling's voice sounded calm when set against the others. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sheppard tuned out the sounds, concentrating on flying them safely out of the Hive's Dart Bay. He'd worry about getting them safely to the Daedalus once they were out, but right now, that seemed like it was going to be Ronon's only hope.

**

"Commander Rissek."

Rissek looked over as the hybrid at the weapons' console called his name, still listening for the command that he knew would come. Waiting…

"Report," he instructed.

"Cascade Beam is now fully charged," the hybrid told him. "We are ready."

He nodded falling into union with the Hive ship to switch their position sufficiently that the weapon, once fired, would achieve maximum efficiency.

"The Earth battleship?" he queried.

"Still attempting to penetrate our defences," the hybrid at tactical reported softly. "The Darts are holding."

Rissek nodded, feeling comforted that, so far, everything was going according to the carefully constructed strategy.

"Keep them at bay," he instructed. "They must not be allowed to interfere."

**

Sheppard had to bank hard to port as they came out of the Hive, in order to avoid a formation of Wraith Darts that were flying a strafing run against the Elder Hive.

"Hang on!" he called back to the others as he righted the Jumper and tried to plot a course through the chaos between the two Hives toward where the HUD told him the Daedalus was pinned amid a swarm of Darts.

It soon became clear, however, that without using the Jumper's weapons to make a path through the battlefield it was going to be near to impossible to get within beaming distance.

"Beckett," he called through to the rear of the Jumper. "How's it going back there?"

"I've got him stabilised," Beckett said, "though I don't know for how long. John, I really need to get him into surgery."

"I know, Doc," Sheppard said, "I'm doing what I can, but—"

"_Sheppard, this is Daedalus_," Caldwell's voice on the comm. cut him off. "_What's your status_?"

"Not good, Colonel," Sheppard said honestly. "The way things are now, unless I open fire on these sons-of-bitches, we're as pinned as you are."

"_You drop that cloak you're as good as dead, Sheppard, and you know it_," Caldwell said. "_Hang tight. One way or another, we're coming to get you_."

**

"Major Marks," Caldwell deactivated the comm. and partly turned the chair toward his con. officer, "Take us in. All batteries, fire at will."

"Sir, if any of those Darts get through our defensive barrage," Marks warned, "it's going to seriously deplete our shields."

"I'm aware of that," Caldwell answered grimly, "but under the circumstances I don't see what choice we have."

He turned the chair front and centre once more, his mouth set in a hard line, watching as the flash of weapons' fire repeated over and over, as they began to move, effectively 'playing chicken' with the Wraith Darts, though he already knew that when it came to fulfilling their mission, the Wraith would think little about giving up their lives in suicide runs against the Daedalus. It was not a thought that filled him with confidence.

**

McKay tried hard not to look at his hands as he made his way forward to lean against the back of Sheppard's chair as the more experienced pilot eased his way gingerly forward.

"Rodney," Sheppard said. The greeting was tense.

He stared past Sheppard, out at the maelstrom of weaving ships, and flashing weapons' fire and the countless explosions that briefly lit the blackness of space until depleting what little oxygen had been released on the demise of the ships they had once been.

"They're really going at it, huh?" he said, moving to the co-pilot's seat.

"There's no love lost, that's for sure," Sheppard answered.

"Who do you think they are?" McKay couldn't help asking the question, and made a grab for the console to steady himself as Sheppard banked the Jumper again to avoid a Dart that was spinning out of control. Jumper One rocked again a moment later as the minor shockwave from the explosion, as the Dart collided with the Hive behind them, flicked them with its scorpion tail. Sheppard pulled up in time to avoid running right into the path of an energy blast.

"I don't know. You know what the Wraith are like, it could be anyone," Sheppard said, and McKay watched him for a moment as the other man's eyes creased with concentration. "I do know that much more like that and it won't matter whether I drop the cloak or not, we're still going to end up as a thin film of atoms against someone's windshield."

"That's not going to happen," McKay said, feeling panic start to gnaw at his belly again. "You're good, right?"

"I'm good," Sheppard confirmed, without breaking concentration for a moment, "but this…? This is insane!"

Looking through Jumper One's front screen again, McKay couldn't help but agree, amid the explosions and the movement and the sheer confusion around them, that Sheppard was right.

**

As they reached the doorway, the hybrid caught Teyla's arm, holding her back and urging caution.

"Proceed with care," he told her as she glared at him. "He was not well treated by any aboard this Hive."

_His moan became a silent cry as she moved him and even in the half-light she could see the cuts and scrapes, the bruises to his face, the blood stains on his shirt. He was trembling, though whether from the cold or from his pain she could not be sure. Suddenly trembling herself, she reached out and quickly grabbed a blanket from the bed, still unmade, nearby. She threw it over him and, as gently as she could, drew his head to rest in her lap._

_He gave another small cry at the movement and the twisting in her belly brought tears to her eyes. Almost tenderly she began to run her fingers through his hair – little enough comfort, but it was all she could give._

_"Who has done this?" she asked, her voice shaking._

_Ignoring the question he gasped, "Teyla…" though whether in warning or appeal she could not be sure._

Teyla shook away the memory, and the hybrid's restraining touch.

"If what you say is true then it is even more important that we bring aid to him quickly," she said, and with one final glance back along the corridor she slipped through the doorway and into the laboratory, reaching out with her senses as she did.

They gave her little enough warning.

The Wraith at the workbench turned and flew at her, and she caught the flash of the dim light reflecting of the metal off the blade he thrust in her direction. She raised the handgun she held, defensively, to catch the blade, before using all her strength to push her attacker away.

He stumbled backward a step, giving her time to take aim, but not enough. His empty hand lashed out, raking against her wrist and sending the weapon flying to the dark corner of the lab, before he came at her again, swinging his knife in a wild arc between them and she was forced to leap back to avoid being cut.

He hissed at her, an angry sound, and as she crouched, a moment later, reaching for the knife from the sheath in her boot the hiss became almost a scream of fury.

**

The light caught the coppery strands in her rich brown hair; reflected off the smooth coffee tones of her skin. Even the balance, the poise in her movements as she crouched, no doubt to retrieve a weapon of some kind, was perfect.

Deep, visceral pain erupted through everything he was and a primal scream of fury left his aching chest. How _dare_ they do this to him – create some kind of doppelganger and send it against him; to break him – the ultimate, final injury they could inflict.

He gathered the rage, revelled in it, bathed in the insanity of its seductive might and held for barely a breath before he launched himself at the impostor, giving no quarter, refusing to allow himself to see what they wanted him to see.

She was fast too, this creature…

_Her balance shifted and she brought her knee upward toward his middle. He felt the move before she even began it and bent one knee beneath him, turning to take the blow against his hip. At the same time, he released the hand he held, and quickly brought his arm across to defend against the blow she aimed at him._

_Using the momentum of the block, she turned an agile somersault over his left shoulder and landed behind him. He came fully to his knee and turned quickly. She was good, but he sought to test her further. He came at her, pulling no punches, moving so quickly he knew she fought to keep up with him, barely blocking the blows he made, and giving ground with each – but still she managed._

…He snarled in denial of the memory, and lashed out, catching the tip of the blade against the sleeve of the shirt she wore. She hissed softly and punched forward with her empty hand against the inside of the arm that held the knife. He barely felt it against the burning of his anger. Instead he rained blows against the creature until, in blocking, she was forced to give ground, and he followed, blocking the strikes that she made against him in turn.

**

Teyla was tiring. She wasn't sure how much longer she could meet the punishing blows the angered Wraith aimed her way. He had her on the defensive, and he was too close to her for her to be able to reverse that. Not without a sacrifice and for Michael's sake she could not afford to risk injury or worse. She needed to wait, to bide her time until she could find an opening that would afford her an advantage over this Wraith and rid herself of the threat he posed. Only then could she search the laboratory; free the one that needed her aid.

She did not even have the luxury of looking around to see if she could find him. This one was so fast that if she took her eye off the fight, of the dangerous advance of his blade for even a second, it would prove the death of her.

She dropped back another step, and knew that she would soon run out of space in which to retreat.

She ducked aside as the blade came toward her cheek, ducking under the outstretched arm, and spinning to deliver a desperate punch to the Wraith's side. He howled in pain, but far from retreating, grabbed her hair in his free hand. She had made a mistake, and knew, in that moment, that it would be a fatal one.

"No!" she growled. She couldn't let it end this way. Not now, when she was so close. She turned the knife in her hand, ready to lash out, ready to bury the blade in the Wraith's belly and gut him like a grounded fish.

He pulled back her head, and in the same moment that the cold of his blade came to rest against her exposed throat, he pushed her back, hard, against the bulkhead wall…

_He easily caught her wrist, pressed her against the wall with the whole of him. His fingers grazed her wrist, and then passed over her palm to entwine with her own and hold her in place. His right hand pressed against her chest._

…and stepped closer.

"Stop!" The hybrid's voice came from the doorway in horrified urgency as she pulled back her hand. "Teyla, no!"

**

The sound of his hybrid calling out her name cut through the blinding rage that held him in its grasp, and hesitating, he forced his eyes to meet hers; made himself see and open his aching mind along those broken pathways.

_-Teyla?-_

Could it be possible? Had the scientist lied, merely for the sake of some cruel sport; some restitution against past insults he'd felt had been served to him?

Her eyes widened and he felt her stiffen in his grasp as he fell into the deep brown of her eyes, that already were warming with horrified compassion for his plight. He could feel the edges of it; the beginnings of its touch around the tattered edges of his psyche.

He saw recognition.

"Michael?" she gasped, and her voice was filled with the pain he could find no way to express.

He released his grasp on the knife he held at her throat as though it were poison to him and heard it clatter, harmless now, to the floor. Then he let go the tight hold he had on her hair and, suddenly trembling, he was forced to brace himself against the growing weakness that crept insidiously through his limbs, against the wall of the laboratory.

**

She caught him by the elbows as his strength began to fail, even as he tried to brace himself against the wall behind her.

"What have they done to you?" she gasped softly, sinking down with him as he came to his knees.

Dismayed, she ran her eyes over his altered, injured form, from his short cropped, bone white hair, over his face, fully reverted now, the butterfly shape around his eyes swollen and bruised as if from many beatings. His lips were thin and bloodless, over his pointed teeth, and were parted in pain as he tried to catch his breath.

She could not stop herself from taking in the sight of the all of him. Her eyes passed over the blackened, hardened patch of Iratus-like skin on the side of his neck, over the filthy blood stained shirt to the twisted, painful looking swelling of his hands and fingers.

Tears for him welled in her eyes, and releasing his elbow as he swayed, dangerously close to falling, she caught his side briefly, and he hissed with added pain. She pulled her hand away again, wet with his blood.

"Nothing… that cannot…" he gasped softly, moving to support himself against her shoulder, his grasp tightening. "…be undone."

She nodded once.

"Tell me what you need," she said, and glancing at the hybrid she craved. "Help me!"

"We must leave this place," Michael said as the hybrid came to join them. "I have the… strength to stand, but not to fight." He almost smiled then, a bitter-sweet smile as he looked again into her eyes and added, "Not any more."

"If we move swiftly, we may be able to avoid many of the Wraith," the hybrid said, moving to support Michael as Teyla began to help him to rise. From within a folded seam of his leather coat, the hybrid took a miniature syringe. Teyla caught his wrist as he moved to administer the contents to Michael.

"It will lend him strength in order to reach the means of our escape," the hybrid told her.

"It's all right," Michael added, and she knew he had seen the suspicion in her eyes. "I don't have a death wish quite yet."

She hesitated for a moment, and then nodding, left Michael to the hybrid while she retrieved her fallen sidearm, and went to the doorway to check outside.

"The corridor is clear for as far as I can see," she informed them as she returned.

"There isn't much time," Michael said, grimacing as the hybrid finished fastening a makeshift bandage around his wound, and as Teyla tilted her head in query, Michael explained, "The injury is deep."

"Then you had better lead us to the Dart Bay quickly," she said.

She met his eyes for the briefest of moments, before he nodded, and began to lead the way from the laboratory.

**

Malcolm banked the scout ship at breakneck speeds thought the ongoing battle, rolling to avoid an incoming salvo from an enemy Dart and returning fire, flying straight through the blossoming fire and debris of the destroyed craft as he made his way back to the Hive.

That he had successfully carried the Queen to safety was small comfort. There was one that remained aboard the Hive that his honour demanded he find.

He rolled again, pulling up sharply to avoid a collision, and saw the enemy Hive full on, and for the first time noticed the spire-like attachment to the forward section of the hull, and the slight glow surrounding it as the energy began to gather to a single point at the head of the spire.

Recognition hit with the force of dread so great he barely remembered to breathe and he reached out with all the urgency he could muster to find the mind of the Hive Commander.

_{Commander, you must listen to me} {listen to me} {listen to me} {listen to me} {the Hive is in danger} {danger} {danger} {danger} {you must lower the shields} {lower the shields} {lower the shields}_

**

"_Colonel Sh—pard, this… Teyla_," the sudden, desperate sounding communication was broken and filled with static. "_If you can… … I… … the Dart… I will… … aboard… … craft_."

"Damn it! McKay," Sheppard hissed, "see if you can clear that up."

"I'm on it," McKay answered with a frown. "Though there's no reason we should be picking her up loud and—"

McKay broke off, and Sheppard exchanged a horrified glance with the scientist. He realised that the scientist had come to the same conclusion as he had.

"You have got to be kidding me," he said, his voice picking up speed as the sentence progressed. "McKay, open a channel to that Hive. Teyla, this is Sheppard. You need to get the hell out of there. You need to get out now!"

"You're on," McKay told him sharply.

"Todd, this is Sheppard," he said urgently, barely pausing for breath. "If you can hear me, stand down! I repeat, stand down. I have people on that Hive!"

Teyla's voice sounded again, so broken as to be unintelligible, even with McKay's obvious efforts to clear up the signal.

"Damn it!" Sheppard spat, and tried to turn the Jumper back toward the Hive.

"What… are you insane!" McKay asked. "We'll never get her off in time be—"

"Todd, you sorry son-of-a-bitch, answer me! Stand down!"

Sheppard wasn't listening to McKay's protests. A member of his team was in danger, and in his book, no one gets left behind.

**

Michael snatched up the Wraith blaster from the hands of the fallen drone and turned quickly to give Teyla covering fire to reach their position. As soon as she reached him he took her by the arms, turning her into the lee of the scout ship while the hybrid covered the both of them.

"Come with me," he said urgently. "You know as well as I do, Colonel Sheppard will not make it back aboard this Hive."

"You know he will try," she said anxiously.

"Then he, too, will meet his end," Michael said finally. He let go of her then, turning to lean heavily against the scout ship as he joined his hybrid in returning fire against the drones. "Live or die, Teyla. Time to choose."

**

"Shields at thirty-seven percent," Marks called out. "Sir, we can't take much more of this!"

Caldwell flinched as another console behind him erupted in sparks and the activating fire suppression system echoed loudly around the bridge.

"Stay on course, Major," Caldwell ordered, "And someone find out why Sheppard's not answering our hails."

"Sir," the tactical officer called to attract his attention. "The enemy Hive has recalled its Darts. They're breaking off. Look!"

"That makes no sense. They—"

"Colonel, I just lost mid-range sensors," Marks said, just as several trilling alarms began to sound, all but drowning out his voice. "Communications are down, and—"

He didn't need to finish his sentence, as the HUD suddenly winked out of existence.

Caldwell felt nausea rising to choke him as understanding dawned.

"Oh… My God!" he murmured, and got out of the command chair to go and look through the bridge view screen. Then, speaking more loudly as he watched the beginning flash of energy erupt from the front of the enemy Hive, moving with a wavelike undulation toward the target Hive, he said, "You were right, Marks. We've seen this before. Find some way to get our fighters out of there. Major Marks, drop the shields and get us into beaming range of the Jumper. Beam them directly to sick bay. I don't care how. Just do it!"

**

_((Do you take me for a fool?)) ((fool)) ((fool)) ((fool)) ((fool))_

Malcolm growled as the Hive Commander's answer reached him. He threw his scout ship into a spin, firing in redirected, frustrated anger, at the retreating enemy Darts, before banking and breaking hard to avoid the nearby craft that cut across his trajectory and all but forced his ship against the leading edge of the energy wave that was advancing toward the Hive.

Desperately he broadcast his understanding of the danger to the Hive itself, but hissed sharply when he felt the Commander actively blocking his sending.

_((I can see to the safety of my Hive.)) ((my Hive)) ((my Hive))_

_{You do not see what is right before your eyes! Lower the shields before you are destroyed!} {destroyed} {destroyed} {destroyed} {destroyed}_

**

"Sheppard, pull up," McKay yelled as the subspace ripple passed directly in front of the speeding Jumper as the colonel tried to get them back into the Dart Bay. He didn't need functioning sensors to be able to see it. "Pull up!"

He was slammed back into his seat as the Jumper's inertial dampeners strained to equalise the forces involved in the sudden manoeuvre and was then released to all but fall against the console as Sheppard brought the Jumper to a complete stop.

"_John, can… …_" Teyla's broken voice crackled through the speakers, _"…fire. … need… assistance_."

Sheppard never had the chance to answer.

**

Even as he sent another warning he knew the Commander would not listen. That one's arrogance would be his undoing, and that of the Hive itself. Accelerating to impossible speeds, Malcolm headed directly for the Hive's forward Bay, trying to outpace the wave from the enemy Hive, knowing that it was a lost and hopeless cause. As the wave overtook his ship, and flared against the Hive's shields, he was forced to pull up sharply, turn in a rolling loop; abandon his run.

**

Sheppard watched, horror-struck, as the Hive's shields flared brightly as the wave struck; watched as the energy at first appeared to fade, remaining only in several dazzling spots against the dark hull, a constellation of disaster unfolding before his eyes.

The first of the explosions started seconds later, a brief flash, like a signal flare, and then nothing, until the next, and then the next; dominoes toppling to continue the deadly chain.

"Sheppard!" He heard McKay's warning, but couldn't act on it. He was frozen. Locked in the terrible knowledge of what was coming – his eyes fixed with failing hope against the exit of the Dart Bay.

**

"Sir, we should be within range, I'm picking up their subspace signals, barely, but I can't get a lock!" Marks called out, and his voice held a desperate edge.

"Take us in closer, route all available power to whatever systems you need to get them out of there." Caldwell got up from his seat, pacing toward the view screen, watching the remnants of the dog fights continue between defending and fleeing Darts… and the blossoming, increasing explosions that began to ripple over the hull of the Elder Hive.

**

The Hive Commander frowned, pulling his hands away from the command interface and peered at the tactical screen. There was no reason for the overloads that were surfacing throughout almost every power-rich system aboard the Hive, or for the failure of the sensors that, only moments ago, showed no enemy craft within range, and with the shield showing eighty-five percent across all generator nodes, there was no reason for the ongoing damage to the Hive. Nothing made sense!

Understanding came slowly along with the memory of the warning the Hive Second had given.

_{Commander, you must listen to me} {listen to me} {listen to me} {listen to me} {the Hive is in danger} {danger} {danger} {danger} {you must lower the shields} {lower the shields} {lower the shields} {you do not see what is right before your eyes! Lower the shields before you are destroyed!} {destroyed} {destroyed} {destroyed} {destroyed}_

He growled, pushing aside the sub-commander that stood at the nearby console to pull up readings from internal sensors to confirm his suspicions.

"Shut down main power!" he snarled as he spun away, heading for the exit of the bridge. "Isolate all systems and purge all remaining command subroutines!"

As his steps quickened, as he all but threw himself into a transporter in order to reach his ship in the Dart Bay, he silently ordered all remaining Darts into an all-out attack against the enemy Hive.

**

"Damn it, Sheppard, we have to move!" McKay's hands started flying over the console, abandoning the cloak in favour of being able to use the weapons to blast an escape route away from the Elder Hive. "The Hive's going critical. If we get caught in the blast, we—"

"No!" Sheppard yelled, as McKay tried to wrest control of the Jumper from his native ATA gene. It was as much in denial of what was happening as to prevent McKay from piloting the Jumper away. "Teyla, this is Sheppard. Please respond."

Nothing.

"Teyla, this is Sheppard. Respond."

Again there was no answer.

"Teyla, this is—"

A bright, yellow tipped inferno erupted beside them, inside of _him_. Filling him with agony, pushing him beyond the limits of anything he could endure. He practically punched the console as he abandoned what little mental control he still possessed and grabbed the manual sticks, banding the craft and accelerating to maximum.

It wasn't enough.

From the rear compartment the fizzling crack of exploding crystal blowing out the panel became a deafening cascade of sound, and then… everything dissolved into the whiteness of nothing.

**

Caldwell raised his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness of the central explosion, and the deadly radiating blast that incinerated the fighting and fleeing Wraith craft and one lone Jumper.

"Do we have them?" he yelled at Marks, whose hands flew over his controls, fighting to keep the bucking deck of the Daedalus under control as all around him, ship's systems began to overload as power conduits failed, sending explosions spilling through the ship.

"I had a lock," Marks yelled, "for a brief second, but—"

"Do we _have _them!" Caldwell repeated turning to face Marks who looked on him with an expression of helpless, regretful uncertainty.

**

He tried to fill his mind with the sound of his feet pounding on the deck plating in place of the absent beat that should have been a part of him as he raced through the corridors.

The view screen was filled with white and orange and red, and the bridge with the sound of Caldwell's worried, almost anguished cries that turned to urgent commands has the man set eyes on Sheppard as he finally made the bridge.

"Marks, get us the hell out of here!" he ordered, "Minimum safe distance!"

Sheppard reached out toward the grim scene, turning to keep the sight of hell within his gaze for as long as he could, filling his bleeding heart with its cauterising burn. His fingers settled against the cool surface of the screen, empty, ineffectual… useless.

***

**Act 5**

Spiralling out of control, spinning toward the planet's atmosphere, Malcolm embraced the pain flowing through him, welcomed it as the reflected rosy brightness faded into black and all awareness of the Hive and everything on it snapped into a sudden silent absence.

Trembling… hissing in agony he fought for the control to slow his ship; achieve a safe velocity for re-entry into the atmosphere so that he could join the survivors… assist the Queen in rebuilding for the future.

Desolate, breathing in snatches he managed to commit the only act possible; the only act necessary and demanded of a Wraith in such a position as he.

_{Mmmy Queen} {my Queen} {my Queen} {my Queen} {I am coming. do not despair} {despair} {despair} {despair}_

**

Marks looked around the now silent bridge as he coaxed the Daedalus on her limping journey back toward Atlantis. They barely made it out of the blast radius, and only by the Grace of God maintained hyperspace capability, but the mood was grim and the damage to Daedalus would take months to repair and something told him they wouldn't _have_ the luxury of months.

The enemy Hive had made the jump to hyperspace even before the explosion had boiled away to nothing, and shortly after, Caldwell had forced Sheppard to see reason; to let the comm. officer give up the fruitless attempt to raise Teyla, when all that came back was static.

They'd practically had to carry the lieutenant colonel back to sick bay.

Marks sighed, and closed his eyes. If that was the price – if that was the burden of command – then he'd happily stay a major for the rest of his life.

**

Sheppard watched as Beckett closed his eyes, took a shuddering breath and opened them again, obviously fighting to keep his emotions under control. He was grieving. They all were, but he suspected that the doctor blamed himself for what had happened. That the gentle man probably thought that if he hadn't acquiesced to military pressures and created the retrovirus in the first place then none of this would have happened.

Sheppard had already visited that particular recrimination, among many others, in the last forty-eight hours and found _himself_ more than a little wanting in respect of the monumental fuckup they'd made.

His red rimmed eyes met those of the doctor. Sheppard ignored his own discomfort as he stood, tattered and bruised, but immaculately dressed in full military dress uniform, trying to send what comfort he could Beckett's way. He knew it was little enough. Another failure.

Beside Sheppard stood the neatly trimmed figure of the base commander whose black suit and tie stood stark against the crisp white of his shirt. The civil and the military, side by side now, finding an uneasy peace in this death, but still they warred, ethically and professionally within the environs of Atlantis, the Pegasus Galaxy, and her people.

Sheppard blamed himself for this; for the price that Teyla had paid for all of them; to _show_ all of them the madness in it.

Tearing his eyes away from those of his friends, Sheppard began to move toward the podium that had been erected in front of the Stargate, but not before he saw McKay reach out to close his hand on Beckett's shoulder.

Standing at the podium, turning to face them all again he fought the urge to bolt, filling his mind with the thought that – even though he'd failed to save her when she'd needed him most – and for once he wasn't thinking of the events of the last couple of days, but long before, when he'd first realised the way she felt about everything; about Michael – he could at least do this for her now.

"Two days," Sheppard said. "Forty-eight hours… two thousand, eight hundred, eighty minutes," his voice cracked then, and he saw Carson open his eyes again, to look at him across the woven pallet on which Teyla's possessions, including the little hand carved crib, had been reverently placed, waiting for the time when – in lieu of her body – they would be carried through the Gate to the settlement of her people, to lie in state, before the pyre would take them all; reduce them to ash and dust that was all that remained of the woman herself, floating endlessly in the vast cold of space.

Sheppard's eyes filled with tears as he thought on all they had lost… on all _he _had lost. He cleared his throat and continued, "One hundred, seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds… since we lost Teyla… and I've lived… every single one of them in a darkness… deeper for knowing the absence of her gentle presence in this galaxy… There's nothing I can say that will bring her back, and nothing I can do that will make sense of the loss I know we all feel. She was… our guiding star, our wisdom… and I didn't see it before it was too late."

"I don't think any of us did, John," Carson said, breaking protocol and stepping forward to interrupt the words he spoke for her, and Sheppard moved aside a step to give the doctor space to join him at the podium. He was grateful to Beckett. He couldn't do this alone.

"Teyla was a rare soul," Beckett continued as he reached Sheppard's side. "She had a way of seeing through to the heart of the matter even when we… all of us… were hard pressed to even figure out what the matter really was in the first place. She wasn't afraid to tell you if she thought you were wrong… or when she thought you were right. I'll miss that very much."

Sheppard took a deep breath as Beckett fell to silence, picking up again where he'd stopped, strengthened and able to go on.

"She was a good friend to all of us; a leader to her people, and to me… the one I never realised; never reached for; never had the courage to set aside duty to be just… John for long enough. I'll miss her… and if, Teyla, wherever you are, in whatever… embrace of the Ancestors you now find rest, I promise you… I won't stop; I won't rest until there's peace and safety in the Pegasus Galaxy for your son – for all the children, and all people of the many worlds… an end to the conflict that you, yourself, sought to end."

"Teyla's memory will go on, John Sheppard," Halling said, with a slight bow, as if in acceptance of his promise. "And peace will be an enduring legacy, when it comes."

**

Beckett watched as the Athosian moved to stand at his place at the front of the litter, and Sheppard moved to the opposite side. After a moment McKay took his place behind Halling, and Beckett moved, suddenly bone weary to take his own place behind Sheppard. Then, in a silence that seemed fitting, appropriate, the four men lifted the litter, and walked slowly toward the active 'Gate.

_Teyla slapped the glass from Beckett's hand and the water spilled over the two of them like some stain of complicity and the glass, hitting the floor of the lab hard, shattered._

_"We did this," she cried. "We drove him to this."_

_"And there it is," He said, tears coming to his eyes, "The truth that only you and I will ever dare to voice; to accept and understand. The Athosians… and all those hundreds of thousands of people infected with the Hoffan protein… the millions that will die in the war to come… their blood is on our hands. Mine as the geneticist that perfected the Hoffan drug and the architect of the retrovirus that created Michael, and on yours for bringing me the Wraith he used to be."_

"Find peace, Teyla," he whispered as he stepped up to the event horizon. "Four years is penance aplenty. You've suffered long enough… find peace now…"

And with a breath, and closing his eyes to send his wishes out into whatever powers might hear and grant his plea for her among the stars of the Pegasus Galaxy, Carson stepped into the wormhole, letting the cooling liquid rush of it surround him and bring him, for just a moment, that which he craved for Teyla.

_To be continued..._


End file.
